Silent Humanity
by ShadowedAuthor
Summary: After a surprise attack, Sabaku no Gaara is sent to a strange new world, injured and alone. Read as Gaara tries to survive whilst keeping his 'inner demons' at bay. No pairings.
1. Chapter 1: A New World

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction.

A/N: I'm new to the whole fanfiction uploading thing but I have been reading fictions for a while now and thought I'd throw in one of my ideas. I hope it is well liked and if so then I might write more. And please remember: writers need reviews to live; they are like food, so please don't starve me.

Updated 28 December 2013: Owing to my new and wonderful Beta reader, RisingNight, this chapter has been reviewed and improved.

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Sabaku no Gaara had been having a bad day. That, in itself, was not an unusual occurrence, but it had been quite some time since he'd had a day quite as disconcerting as this one. It had been a few months since his fight with the Shitenshonin from the Takumi Village and Naruto had left for his training mission with one of the legendary Sannin. Ever since his fateful encounter with Seimei Shukaku had been almost completely dormant inside of him, except for the occasional headache on a full moon. He hadn't even killed any of his fellow Suna citizens in a while. He had also been sleeping more often, which was a big plus. Overall, things had been going fairly well.

Things had been going well, until his past came back to bite him.

The past, in this instance, was in the form of a low-ranking Jounin from his own village, or to be more precise, this particular ninja's son. Several years prior to the Chunin exam and subsequent war, Gaara had been tormented by his 'inner demons' one night and had struck out at the first person he saw. That person just so happened to be the Gennin son of the man currently attacking him.

As soon as Gaara had seen the Genin boy, he had called his deadly sand and crushed him without hesitation. To this day Gaara regretted taking that boy's life, along with every other victim he had mercilessly and needlessly slaughtered, but that did not mean that when a kunai appeared to fly out of nowhere he didn't block it with his sand. Nor did he allow the exploding tag on the end of the kunai to burn him. Gaara hated what he had done, but a certain blonde Jinchūriki had taught him to become a better person so that he could protect those precious to him. With that in mind, the tormented red-head parried another kunai strike from the unknown assailant, who appeared to be, from the look of his uniform, from Gaara's very own village.

The sand-user jumped back to put some distance between him and the unknown masked Suna shinobi to plan his next move. He had been under the impression that his village had stopped trying to kill him; then again, this assassin didn't come as that much of a surprise given his blood splattered past and high rates of vendetta placed against him.

"What are you doing?" Gaara demanded in his usual straight-to-the-point way, silently planning his route of escape or plan of attack. Both would have been easier if they weren't currently in a valley, several miles from any possible back-up.

"Avenging my son! I'm gonna kill you... You monster!" This time, the infuriated ninja formed several hand seals before several loose pebbles and rocks rose into the air in front of him before flying straight for Gaara at bullet-like speeds.

Unconsciously, Gaara's sand protected him just in time, but whilst the wall of sand obscured his view, the Jounin in front of him dove to the side to the valley's wall and jumped off of it, throwing a weapon at the person he had sworn vengeance upon. If it had been anyone weaker than a Jounin, then the shuriken that had flown out the man's hand would not have even come close to Gaara, but the multi-bladed weapon came so close to him that he had to use most of his sand as a precaution to stop the blade from reaching his neck.

Unfortunately for the current defender, this was only a distraction for the assailant to finish setting up his seal. Gaara's attention was only drawn to the circular array at his feet that he had been lured into standing on when the symbols seemingly carved into the ground started to glow brightly.

"You demon! You took my son from me, now it's payback time!" The hysterical shinobi screamed as he jumped over the top of Gaara's sand and landed in front of the wary teen who was now gathering the sand at his feet to deal with the rogue ninja. "I'm gonna send you straight to hell!" He roared before he slapped his hand on the base of the circular seal, took his kunai, raised it above his flattened hand and with one final scream, plunged the dark steel dagger straight through the waiting appendage.

The Ichibi host was baffled by this show of self harm, to the point of raising one of his invisible eyebrows, but refused to let whatever plan the crazed ninja had concocted happen. The insomniac gathered the rest of his sand and formed a spear in his hand, ready to kill the nuisance in his way; though, he wanted to note, it was out of self-defence and not enjoyment this time.

The **former**-psychopath was about to throw the lance at the pinned man kneeling only a few feet away from him, but as his arm drew back he actually dropped the sand javelin and his body convulsed with pain unlike any he had felt before as blue bolts of electricity sizzled through the doubled-over teen's body.

"Kin-jutsu: Demon world transport!" The bleeding man on the ground spoke as he used his one un-impaled hand, now free of the kunai, to form a single hand sign in front of his face. After he had announced the name of his jutsu he began to laugh maniacally.

The pained teenager could do nothing to stop the forbidden-technique as it was completed and the man, who had tears streaming down his face, howled with laughter, appearing to melt into the glowing circular seal.

The man continued his uproarious cachinnation even as his face started to turn into a flesh coloured liquid and poured into the seal that was still paralyzing the immobilised host, who was now on all fours as the glowing of the markings intensified.

The light was blinding at this point for Gaara, who could hear others approaching over the crackling of the electricity. The helpless warrior could only hope that those shinobi were friendly.

As it turned out, they were about as friendly as he could have hoped for: his siblings. The pair ran forwards, through the narrow valley, towards their crippled little brother who was struggling to stay conscious in the electrically charged field that was still subduing him.

Temari and Kankuro had both been performing their usual patrols around the village outskirts when they felt an immense burst of chakra coming from the mountains several miles outside of the village. Without so much as requesting assistance they sped there as quickly as their feet would carry them. In any other case the pair probably wouldn't have rushed so desperately to the source of the disturbance, but they could only think of one source for that magnitude of chakra and their little red-haired brother had gone out on a mission a few hours before in that general direction. When they arrived, they were shocked to see their supposedly demonic younger brother being electrocuted by blue lightning bolts whilst writhing in a pile of his own sand inside some sort of shining array that neither of them recognised.

Gaara tried to look up at his older siblings but lost consciousness soon after their arrival because of the pain from the seal still holding him down, dragging him into darkness.

Temari gasped as Gaara's head dropped to the ground and was about to approach him to help in any way she could, but she was held back by Kankuro who quickly shouted, "Don't! You'll get caught in whatever that thing is as well!"

As soon as the black-rimmed eyes had shut the glowing of the array had intensified, unnoticed by Kankuro and Temari, until the light was bright enough for them to have to avert their gazes from it.

Suddenly, in the midst of the crackling of the electricity and the blowing of the wind in the valley, a boom sounded, like nothing either of the two conscious teens in the desert had ever heard before. The explosion may have been in sound only, but as soon as it had been sounded, the entire chasm they were standing in went completely silent, except for the slight echoing of the explosion and the continuing soft howling of the wind that their country was famous for.

Both of the remaining sand siblings looked back for their teammate and family to see nothing, not even the symbols that had been carved into the rock were there anymore. The entire scene had been wiped out. Gaara, his sand and any residual chakra was gone.

Temari looked at the scene and then after finally registering that he was gone, searched the surrounding area for any trace of her little brother's or the one-tailed beast's chakra, but found nothing. At this revelation, Temari broke down into fits of hysterical tears at the sudden apparent death of their younger brother. No matter what he had done, they had still loved him, and now he was gone.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara awoke, or at least he assumed he was awake because of the pain, to a blackness. Not a swirling blackness or a flashing one, but an absolute darkness that made the Tanuki-host question his sight. He would have dwelled on this worry of blindness but he was interrupted by what seemed to be slashes to his torso, then his back, then to his chest and his legs and his arms. From every conceivable angle, Gaara was cut to shreds. Whilst this excruciating pain was tearing through Gaara's system, he felt a further inexplicable feeling, as if he was being pulled and pushed in every direction and yet still falling. All of these sensations made the battered boy almost slip into a peaceful unconscious slumber once again, but for some unknown reason sleep would not come.

Wherever the injured boy was, time didn't seem to exist, as it felt as if he had been falling for hours upon hours or possibly even days or weeks, and yet there had been no change in visibility, and then, all too suddenly, he found himself outside of the darkness, still falling, but now that was the only sensation of movement.

Gaara was glad as he impacted on the relative softness of the grass combined with the sandy remains of his gourd, as the two soft surfaces had stopped the battered ninja from breaking his neck or back after his considerable fall. Even more so, Gaara was glad because the freezing cold grass was aiding in numbing the wounds that literally covered his body.

It must have been night time wherever he had landed, Gaara surmised, because he couldn't see more than twenty feet away from himself despite the waning moon above him; then again, he was in so much pain, that to think straight enough to focus his eyes would have been a monumental and ultimately impossible task. And he wasn't sure he wanted to see that much, he couldn't have done much even with his sight at that point. It turned out that the slashing feelings that he had endured for however long he had been in the darkness were in fact cuts littering his body. Most were relatively shallow and harmless but one or two were larger and definitely more serious if left untreated. Adding blood loss to possible hypothermia and the inability to move to help himself, things weren't looking too good for the ex-sociopath.

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Sirius Black was by no means a precautious man, or at least he hadn't been so before, but ever since he had managed to escape from Azkaban prison using his animagus abilities, he had been more careful than he had previously thought possible. That being said, that didn't mean that when he was longingly staring out of the highest window of his current hideaway, the Shrieking Shack, and saw someone suddenly start to fall from the darkened sky, he wasn't going to go and try to help whoever it was.

Black ran from the bedroom he had been sitting in and morphed into his black-dog form as he reached the front of the house before pounding out of one of the small dog-sized cracks and into the cold grassy grounds outside of the most haunted house in Britain.

When the dog-formed man reached his goal it was far from what he expected. The first part of the child that caught his attention was the blazing red hair on the boy's head. Unlike the 'red' hair of the Weasley family that was more akin to orange than actual red, this red-head was the colour of blood. The next thing Sirius noticed was the actual blood coming from the countless wounds on the still form in front of him, even seeping through his clothes. The sole heir of the Black name couldn't think of any spell that would have this devastating affect on a body, not even Sectumsempra left this kind of damage, nor did he want to think of a person willing to perform such a horrendous type of magic on a child.

The second thing he noticed was the volume of sand surrounding the still body. As if he had been cushioned by the small desert beneath him, the boy didn't seem to have any wounds pertaining to the fall itself, only the hundreds of cuts all over his body.

The escapee looked around the surrounding area to check for dementors or worse: tourists, and after he was sure he was alone he changed back into his raggedy human form and carried the surprisingly light child in his arms back to his hide-out. On his way back to his temporary home Sirius couldn't help but slow down to relish the chill in the air. That was one of the few luxuries he enjoyed as a dog, a thick fur coat, but that didn't mean he wouldn't savour any rare chances to feel the cold night's chill on his skin now that he was free, in a manner of speaking. When he reached the door-less house he quickly thought on his feet and used his foot to widen the hole he had been using until that point.

Once inside the rotten and run down house, the animagus went to work helping the boy who had fallen from the sky. Firstly, he removed the boy's shirt to get a better look at the wounds that seemed to get worse and worse the more he looked. The man ran into the next room and got a bowl of water to clean some of the blood off before he inspected the wounds properly. For the most part they were superficial lacerations that weren't doing much damage on their own. A few may have grazed an organ or two but the only thing the man could do was wrap them tightly in the cleanest material he could find in the decrepit house and hope for the best.

As he was finishing he was at the boy's neck and, after an inspection, decided to wrap the slash he found there tightly too. Luckily the deep wound on the neck hadn't even touched the jugular, not that a simple wizard like he would have known about human anatomy, but he knew that if neck cut, and lots of red stuff come out, that bad. What was worrying, though, was that the gash had sliced through the boy's larynx. He wrapped up the neck and a few of the larger cuts that were visible on the boy's face before setting him down.

Whilst Black had worked on the boy's porcelain-like face he couldn't help but notice two things, other than the incredibly pale skin. Those were: the ridiculously dark shadows around his eyes that looked as if he had gone ten years without sleep, and the large red tattoo/scar on his forehead that appeared to be some foreign symbol.

As he sat back, Sirius had to admire his handiwork of the last hour and a half. The boy was covered in bandages from head to toe, and still the convict could see the boy was around the same age as his godson, if not a little younger. The jailbird had wanted to at least see Harry as soon as he broke out of prison, but now he couldn't leave the boy for at least few months, maybe more judging by his wounds. He would have to put off seeing his best friend's son until he came to visit Hogsmeade in the fall as a student.

Sirius checked the boy's pocket for a wand or identification but found no sign of either. The only thing he found was some sort of bandanna with a metal plate engraved with some sort of hourglass symbol, which was attached to some kind of leather sash that had run across the boy's chest and up his back.

After a few minutes of watching the shallow breathing of the heavily wounded teenager, Sirius turned back into a dog and took a small sniff of the boy's scent and went outside into the night to see if there was anything of the boy's left out there. Startlingly, the sand that the boy had landed in smelt strongly of the red-head, as if he had been with it for years. Sirius padded up to the patch of sand covered ground and started to dig around in it to see if there was anything buried in there that could help identify the mysterious youth lying in his current refuge.

The dog rejoiced when he discovered something. It was a pouch. The small purple bag was fairly heavy when Sirius picked it up with his mouth and ran back to the makeshift front door of the shrieking shack. When he was back in the main room he used, where the boy was still lying, he reverted to his original form and sat down cross-legged on the floor to examine what the boy was carrying. Perhaps he could find some clue in there as to what had happened.

Sirius was shocked to find several knives, star-shaped bladed weapons and pads of paper with strange writing on them. The writing was different to what was on the boy's forehead and seemed more like a pattern than actual writing. Maybe it was money?

Sirius was about to pick up the stack of papers to inspect them further when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to see…

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara had been having the nicest dream he could remember having; it consisted of him sitting down with his mother and father, his aunt and sister and brother and them eating a meal together. They had all talked and laughed and had a nice time with each other. No mention of shinobi or wars or demons. It was so pleasant, he had wished he would never wake up. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

When the panda-eyed boy woke he was immediately assaulted by the almost overpowering pain from his wounds, but pushed through the immense agony to look around himself. He surmised he was in an old shabby house and it was still night time. He then noticed the other person in the room. In any other situation he would have jumped into a defensive stance or cocooned himself in sand, but he could do neither for lack of strength and sand. He couldn't move a muscle.

It was then that Gaara, out of the corner of his eye, saw the man rummaging through his weapons-pouch about to touch his exploding tags. With all the strength he could muster, Gaara opened his mouth and was about to tell him to stop, but nothing came out, no words, no sound, nothing. Fortunately the movement of his mouth was enough to draw the man's attention.

Sirius immediately stopped going through the other's possessions and turned towards the intensely glaring boy on the floor a few feet from him. "Hello," Sirius started, trying to ease some of the tension he was feeling because of the gaze on him. "My name is…actually, never mind," He continued, he'd almost revealed he was the murderer wanted by the entire magical and muggle communities, though he wasn't all too sure that the boy was even a wizard. He didn't have a wand, he wasn't dressed in wizarding robes, and he had wounds that looked more like they were from a muggle weapon than a wizard's wand. That and he hadn't immediately recognised him from the pictures that were undoubtedly in every bar and on every shop in the wizarding world. "I found you outside. You, uh... fell from the sky. Do you remember what happened? Could you tell me your name? Where did you come from?" The man asked, hoping for even a slither of information.

Gaara looked at the scruffy man sat across from him and once again with great effort opened his mouth to talk but couldn't utter a syllable. The red haired tanuki host kept trying to speak but it soon became apparent that he couldn't. One of the cuts had apparently severed his vocal cords, it seemed. After this, the red-head just closed his mouth and went back to sleep. He needed to conserve his energy.

The fugitive of the dementors watched this display until the boy went back to sleep and slipped back out of the room as quietly as possible so that he could go and get some food. This had been worrying him whilst he dressed the boy's wounds. He had been turning into a dog and eating in that form, rabbits and small mammals had been enough to sustain him, but now he had a fully human boy who needed to be fed. It made Sirius laugh at the thought that he wanted to take care of Harry one day. He was fairly sure that neither boy would appreciate a dead rabbit presented to them by a large black dog for dinner.

The man came to his front door and shifted to his 'grim' form and ran off into the woods to hunt, in a manner. First Sirius dealt with his own hunger by finding a cute little bunny rabbit… and eating it. After he was done there he ran to Hogsmeade village to help his new ward.

One may have questioned Sirius' surprisingly charitable and caring actions towards a boy he'd never met, but it was easily explainable. Sirius had always been a caring person; he had been deprived of the care he craved as a child until he met his best friend James and their various other friends. When he had been sent to the detestable prison he had been removed from anyone he cared about and now that he was out he just wanted someone to talk to. It also didn't hurt that the mysterious boy looked a little like Lily, due to the hair and the eyes, and was about the same age as Harry. All of that added to the fact that for the last few weeks he had had nothing to do except skulk around as a dog or look out of the window longingly at the woods and edges of the village of Hogsmeade.

His musings were soon interrupted when he came upon the edge of the woods, marking the beginnings of the sole town for miles around. Sirius made his way around the outskirts until he spotted one of the back alleys he recognised. He recognised this particular back alley because, as man may not live on bread alone, Sirius may not live on rabbit and mole alone. He had found this little gem after four days of living in the shrieking shack and eating nothing but woodland creatures.

Padfoot walked up to the darkened alley and sat down, waiting for a prize he was sure would be worth the wait.

Sure enough a few hours later the back door opened to reveal a large burly man carry out a bucket of waste materials from the bakery inside. As soon as the black dog was spotted a wide smile was set upon the large man's face before he finished his task and walked back inside in quite a haste whilst leaving the door agape. Soon enough he returned, carrying with him a large loaf of bread, fresh from the oven.

"'Ere ya go pooch." The man slurred as he chucked the loaf to the ground as was routine by now. The man had discovered the dog sniffing through his shop's bins a couple of weeks ago and had a soft spot for dogs. As such, he had brought him a loaf whenever he saw him, which wasn't that often, every two or three days.

Sirius wasted no time before snatching up the bread and carried it back through the woods as quickly as possible. He soon arrived back at the familiar setting of the shack before padding in quietly, dropping the loaf and zooming back out to get something else.

Around a quarter of an hour later he arrived back with a slight toothy grin around the rabbit in his mouth. He dropped that too and changed back swiftly while he carried the rabbit and bread upstairs and into the main bedroom to see the boy was once again awake.

"I'll make you some food; do you understand what I am saying?" Sirius questioned with a smile whilst he knelt down and started to strip some of the dry wood from his surroundings to make kindling.

Whilst he worked he looked over to the other in the room who had been looking at him with a face as unreadable as the scruffy-man had thought possible, and nodded slowly before turning his head to the ceiling.

A little while later Sirius Black was just finishing cooking the rabbit he had since skinned, cleaned and so forth, before skewering and suspending over the warm fire. It was a warm and well appreciated change from raw meat and plain bread.

Not long after the wrongly convicted man had finished his amateur cooking, he stripped the meat as best as he could and used the bread to hold it making a few rabbit sandwiches ready to eat.

The still kneeling man moved over to the lying boy before helping him to sit up. He had been very careful with trying not to reopen any of the wounds that littered the bandaged body, then of course there was the problem of the pain that would certainty have been unbearable for any normal human.

Luckily Gaara wasn't any normal human being; he was a shinobi who could handle pain, despite what past Chunin exams may have led one to believe.

After he was upright, Gaara attempted to eat the crudely made bunny sandwich. It was a valiant attempt but what both had forgotten was the large gash in the hungry but injured boy's throat. After the first try, resulting in a bloodied cough and a few reopened wounds, Gaara gave up on the food in front of him; instead he turned his head and hoped the stranger would get the hint and let him back down gently. He did.

Over the next few days Sirius Black continued to take care of the bedridden mystery teen that he had been calling Lily in his head. Just a bit of an ironic joke. Though he didn't dare say that particular thought out loud because the teen was scarier than most of the Death Eaters he had ever met, put together. It was the eyes, they were so cold.

The falsely accused had been getting bread almost every day and making crude stews as best he could. As far as he could tell, they weren't doing any more damage to Lily's throat; but from what he had seen, Lily appeared to be mute or maybe he was just very quiet.

A week after the boy had arrived, Sirius had been astounded by the fact that he was able to stand and walk without help. Well, he was incredibly shaky and could only take a few steps, but to be able to recover from those extensive injuries in such a short amount of time was unheard of without around the clock care from a medical witch or wizard. When Sirius had redressed the wounds most of them were already healed or healing.

Just over a week after his arrival Gaara was lying where he usually did, looking over at his caretaker cooking more stew. The sand-user didn't know what meat it was but the food itself wasn't that bad. At least he was healing normally, for him. As bad as Jinchūriki had to suffer, there was the upside of super fast healing. What irked Gaara the most was that his throat didn't seem to be healing at all, other than having closed over. He guessed his vocal chords had been fully severed and were beyond repair. It really didn't make much difference to his already fairly distant persona but it would be a hindrance in the future.

Gaara stopped his thoughts when he heard the man speak, "My name, it's Sirius." He said clearly and concisely without any hesitation. Gaara couldn't help but wonder why he'd waited a week before revealing it. "I'm a criminal on the run. I didn't want to tell you my name because I was feared you might have heard of it." It was funny how often his questions were answered without him asking the question out loud.

"I don't suppose you can tell me your name, can you?" Sirius asked rhetorically, "I actually knew someone with hair as red as yours many years ago," He continued absentmindedly. "I guess if I don't know your real name I'll just call you Lily." He said with a chuckle and a smile wide enough to show of his gruesome blackened teeth as he continued with the cooking.

The red-head grimaced. He wasn't quite as happy with the new name as his saviour, who continued with his cooking oblivious to the coldest stare he would ever receive, or more correctly, his back. Nor did he or Gaara notice the faintest sign of a blush creep onto the boy's face.

It was only a few days later and Gaara was able to walk unaided which was a massive relief to him. He hadn't done anything since he had arrived except the occasional trip to the bathroom and a shaky walk around the room to stave off muscular-dystrophy. Both of which had been painful but wholly necessary.

Gaara's first plan was to leave and go back to the Wind country or, failing that, at least get to the Fire country. Unfortunately he didn't know what land he was in or even what continent. Gaara looked over to the man who was sitting at the window, looking out forlornly like he often did when he wasn't preoccupied taking care of Gaara, he gave a little wave to get the dirty man's attention ever-silently before gesturing for a pen.

When Sirius looked towards his charge he was shocked to see the gesture the boy was making. He had his fingers positioned in a small grip and was waving it in a downwards movement. For most muggles and even shinobi this would have been a clear sign for a pen or a brush and ink in the latter's case, but to the fully grown wizard that was undoubtedly, and wrongly, identified as the gesture for a wand.

"You want a wand, Lily? Are you a wizard?" He asked flabbergasted at his own naivety. "And here I thought you were just a muggle." He laughed as he walked over and sat down.

Gaara was confused, mostly by the words 'wand', 'wizard' and 'muggle'; he was so confused that he forgot to glare when he was called by a girl's name again. He had never come across 'muggle' and could only think of children's fairy tales when he heard the words 'wand' and 'wizard', so he was sure that he had been mistaken. In an attempt to convey his ignorance on the subject to the other he tilted his head to the side.

Sirius would have happily lent his wand temporarily to the young 'wizard', but that was long gone. It had been snapped after he was arrested all those years ago like all convicts' wands were. "Sorry, I don't have a wand anymore."

Gaara shook his head and redid the pen gesture but slower, hoping the kind but utterly oblivious man might get the message.

"Oh a pen!" Sirius exclaimed in a rare bout of realisation and clarity. "I'll see if I can go get you one." He said as he walked to the door "Oh, and Lily," he had opened the door "-forget what I said about wands and wizards, it was all a…umm… joke." The falsely accused hoped the peeved teen might just buy the quick lie.

He didn't.

After a quick trip up to Hogsmeade and back, the dog had managed to craftily swipe a quill from an open window. It was a lucky find by any standards. By the time he got back, 'Lily' had gotten dressed in his old, very worn clothes and was sitting by the window. The black bandanna with the silver metal plate was now tied around his neck instead of around his large leather sash, which was probably to cover up the scar on his throat, or so Sirius guessed.

As per usual, Sirius had changed back into human form before re-entering the derelict haunted house. He walked over to the teen and handed the quill to him, curious as to what he was going to say first.

As soon as he got the quill, Gaara moved to the wall and started to write, 'My name is Gaara. Not Lily.' The deadly glare aimed at Sirius was all the punctuation the message needed.

With a nervous chuckle Sirius said "I think I liked 'Lily' better. So, where do you come from?"

'Sunagakure, of the Wind country' He scrawled quickly, but when he saw the questioning look on the other's face as he read it, he continued to write 'of the Elemental Nations'. Still there was no look of recognition on Sirius' face. 'Where am I?'

"You are in the Shrieking-shack, just outside of Hogsmeade village," Predictably this didn't earn any sign of acknowledgement so he added "Very close to Hogwarts." This was sort of a test to see if the boy was infact a young wizard. Nothing. The boy just continued his even looking before writing.

'What country?'

"England, part of Great Britain."

The red-head sat still in a considerable pause. Before continuing the partially written conversation 'What are wizards?'

This stunned the man who was sat across from the mute teen, he hadn't expected that question, yet, after he thought about it he realized he should have. The only thing he could do was be honest. He wasn't closely connected enough to any muggles to help the boy unless he told him 'the big secret' and helped him through wizarding means.

"Okay, but first tell me what happened to you." said Sirius.

'I was attacked by someone from my village who used a jutsu that sent me through a dark place, where I got the wounds, and then I landed here.' Gaara purposefully left out the part about killing the man's son.

"What is a jut-su?" Sirius asked, completely mispronouncing the word. The entire story seemed very odd. To be sent through some sort of portal sounded very much like magic. 'Maybe they just don't call them wizards where he comes from.' Sirius thought hopefully.

'A ninjutsu, a ninja technique. It's pronounced jootsoo.' The boy wrote before shuffling over to another wall, he was running out of writing space, which he imagined would be a hindrance for the rest of his life if he was to forever be mute.

"I've never heard of a ninjutsu." The baffled man thought out loud.

'A shinobi uses chakra to do various techniques.' Gaara explained, trying not to go into too much detail about the complex and irrelevant nature of being a ninja.

"And you're one of these 'shinobi'?" Sirius questioned excitedly. This was extraordinary, to find another culture that used magic completely separate from his own was groundbreaking.

'Yes.'

"Could you show me one of your jutsus?"

'Not right now. I need sand to use my techniques. Most ninja have techniques unique to them.' He quickly wrote on the grimy lime green wall.

As the red-head looked back at the man he saw a smile appear on his face before he got to his feet and moved to the door on the other side of the room. "Wait here." The filthy man ran out of the room quickly and, unknown to Gaara, out of the house still in human form until he was the edge of the woods where he had first discovered Lily's' body. Sure enough there was still a pile of old sand lying there on the grass. It wasn't as pure as when it had first appeared, dirt was mixed in with it and most of it was damp and unusable, unbeknownst to Sirius who scooped up a large handful and ran back as fast as he could to the fascinating teen.

Sabaku no Gaara was shocked to say the least when he watched the man re-enter the room carrying a handful of sand with him. Granted, the sand was dirtier than Sirius himself and slightly damp which would have usually made manipulation impossible but the amount was so small that it should be possible to work it.

Sirius sat down cross legged just a few feet away from Gaara before turning his hand over and dropping the sand in between them, dusting his hands off to get rid of any left over sand stuck to them.

Another wave of surprise hit Gaara as he felt the familiar presence of his chakra mixed in with the sand. He knew as soon as he saw it, that it was his sand, which made it all the easier to move. Gaara outstretched his hand over the sand, palm faced down, and immediately it started to rise off the ground and crumble and reform in mid air, getting rid of the dirt and grass and any left over clumps of stuck together sand. Soon it was dry and pure like normal and waving around, though greatly reduced in quantity.

Sirius was astounded by this; normal wand-less magic was different from this. Usually a powerful wizard could perform the basics of spells without a wand and even then they were greatly weakened, but this boy seemed to be performing a floating charm on sand, which was difficult in itself, not only without a wand but also without saying the spell, which was unheard of.

"That's amazing!" Sirius bellowed. "I've never seen a wiza- I mean, anyone do anything like this. With this you could probably get into Hogwarts, even though you're over the age for first years!"

'Hogwarts?' Gaara had crushed the sand into a small ball and dropped it into his pocket for later use before picking the quill back up. It was the only sand he had at this point and he couldn't even defend himself against an academy trainee with it… well he probably could but he didn't like his chances against anyone worth fighting.

"It's a school for young witches and wizards, and I think you would qualify." Sirius said. "I'll ask an old friend of mine to get you in, if you want."

Gaara was surprised by this proposition but shook his head signalling a clear 'no'. He wrote on the wall 'I have to get back to my people.' As soon as he wrote this, Sirius seemed to deflate a little, inside and out, his previous childlike excitement from the idea of being involved in Hogwarts was gone.

Dejected Sirius replied "Okay." before moving to the window to stare outside, obviously disappointed, though that didn't change Gaara's mind even in the slightest.

Gaara moved the quill back to the mouldy green wall and wrote 'What are wizards, muggles and wands?'

What followed was a lengthy; and, mostly, one-sided explanation of magic, the wizarding world and the war with 'He-who-shall-not-be-named' that still barely scratched the surface of the vast and apparently complicated world Gaara was in and by the end of it, the silent ninja was sick and tired of magic and Earth.

After the conversation Gaara washed his writing off of the wall, to keep what he said a secret. He was still first and foremost a ninja who needed to cover his tracks.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next day, Gaara went into Hogsmeade village to get food, though 'get' might have been the wrong word, 'steal' seemed more appropriate. As the tanuki-host reached the town, he was relieved to be among other people after so long in that one room which wasn't to say that he didn't like Sirius, not at all, the man had been very kind to him and despite his despised nickname, he had no real problem with the man, well… except maybe the smell. It was uncanny, the way the man smelled almost exactly like a wet-dog. It was one of the things the man had neglected to explain.

It was refreshing for Gaara, to be able to walk through a village and not be watched like a monster or recognised at all. He did get one or two bewildered looks for the tattered and strange clothes he wore as well as his universally strange appearance, the red spiky hair, black rimmed scary pupil-less eyes and the prominent tattoo on his forehead.

After he had entered the main high street of Hogsmeade, Gaara sought out the nearest back alley and crouched down behind a rubbish bin. When he was sure he was hidden he moved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the small sand coloured ball he had dropped in there the day before.

When it was free, he opened his palm and let it float just above his palm before it dispersed into a small cloud of granules, moving freely like a miniature sandstorm in his hand. Almost immediately after, the cloud snaked down to the ground before forming into a loose gaseous drill shape and burrowing in between the cobblestone floor of the alley and out of sight. Most of the sand that had been left outside of the Shrieking Shack was unusable, the only reason he could use the small amount Sirius had brought him was precisely because of its small quantity. He had thus decided to create an all-new gourd out of the rocks in this world. From the small amounts he'd been able to break down outside of the shack, this world's minerals took in his chakra just as well as the ones in his world did. Gaara had needed to come into the local village in order to survey what other types of stone were in the area; the rocks around where he was currently living were all far too hard to break down with the meager amount of sand at his disposal so he had little choice but to look elsewhere.

As it would be several hours before he would have enough sand to fill his gourd, which he would also have to make out of more sand, Gaara left the back alley and went back towards the relatively busy high street. There he found a bench situated outside a shop and sat down in order to concentrate on controlling the sand that was now grinding its way around underground. Fortunately, for such a highly trained shinobi, meditation for a few hours was child's play. Unfortunately for the ex-insomniac, he hadn't quite mastered the practices of sleeping and waking up. As such, when he sat down and closed his eyes to 'meditate' for an hour or two, he didn't expect to wake up twelve hours later, in the dark with a dog nudging his leg insistently.

Gaara quickly surveyed his surroundings upon waking, like he'd been trained, and soon realised his folly. It was late, really late. All of the residents of the small village had since deserted the streets and it was rapidly cooling down outside.

Gaara looked down at Sirius, A.K.A. the dog, and ruffled the fur on the top of its head before chuckling silently at how it moved its head into the touch. The dog was large and smelly and had dark fur; ironically the red-head could only think how similar it was to Sirius.

Gaara walked away from the apparently stray dog and back into the back alley that he had visited earlier that day when he decided he'd given the poor mongrel enough attention. He had no more time to spare, seeing as how he had said he'd be back in an hour or two and it had since been half a day. His private nurse-maid would surely be hysterical by this point.

When he was back in the darkened corner of the inner village, he stood straight this time whilst he looked around to see nobody except the smelly black dog who sat patiently off to the side around. Deciding to ignore the non-sentient being, Gaara raised his arm until it was fully outstretched in front of him and parallel with the ground before splaying his fingers and bringing his other hand to just a few inches away from his chin before making a fist and pointing two fingers upwards in a one-handed ram hand seal. Soon, the ground started to rumble lightly, making Sirius-dog whine uncertainly.

Not long after, a stream of sand started to fall upwards out of the hole that he himself had drilled into the cobbled street. The flow continued until the ball of sand floating before him was roughly twice the size of a beach ball, turning slowly above of Gaara's outstretched arm.

Gaara looked intently at the ball of sand before closing his hand, forcing his chakra into the shell of the sand whilst watching it transform into his nostalgic gourd shape, complete with the red markings and the cork made of sand. The sand-gourd floated around to Gaara's back before being tied on. He felt elated to have the familiar feeling of the giant sand container affixed to his back.

Sirius had gotten worried when his ward hadn't come back after several hours, so he had changed into dog form to find him. He had looked everywhere that the mute teen could've been hiding until he finally got a chance to look around the usually busier parts of Hogsmeade when most of the wizards and squibs had cleared out.

He had found the sleeping teen sitting on one of the numerous benches that littered the busy wizarding village.

Earlier that day, many of the regulars to Hogsmeade village had heard rumours and seen the mysterious red-haired racoon boy asleep on a public bench. At one point, a half-giant from a local school had attempted to get close to the boy to wake him up out of concern, but when he got within five feet, the boy had let out a blood chilling growl without waking up, a growl that could well have been a snore from the usually silent sleeper. From that point on, no one attempted to rouse the beast container, until a large black dog came walking along at night.

With his trusted gourd now back where it belonged, Gaara strode into the high street again and looked around until he found the local bakery, which luckily still had a few loafs out on display in the shop front. Gaara didn't particularly like the idea of stealing, but he didn't have any money, nor did he know what currency these 'wizards' used. Sirius had explained the more generalised information regarding the world he was in but there were still massive amounts he didn't know.

As Gaara stood by the the bakery's front door, the cork in the gourd turned into sand before the small amount floated into the lock of the old styled wooden door; soon an audible click was heard signalling access to the bakery was now possible. Gaara didn't enter the bakery himself, he merely had a tendril of sand swoop in and pick up a pair of loaves of before closing the door and relocking it.

The red-head wrapped up the bread, and silently and motionlessly commanded the sand to fly out of his gourd and in front of him. He piled up the sand until it was a foot thick and two feet wide, plenty of room to stand on. Gaara looked down at the old mangy dog that had followed him with a look of awe on its face unlike any dog that had come before it, before floating off on the sand platform.

The mangy dog wasn't too happy about this latest turn of events. As quickly as his doggy legs would take him, the escaped convict sprinted back to the shrieking shack. Fortunately, after the lengthy run, he discovered he had in fact arrived first.

That night they quietly sat and ate the bread without Sirius even attempting to start another conversation or rant. He had been shocked by the Suna-nin's control over the sand, without a wand or any magical artefact. But Sirius was a man with his own secrets, and he wasn't going to pressure his new friend over his.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next day, for Gaara, was started by a rather rude awakening by a nervous and sickly looking brunette clumsily disturbing his slumber. Gaara had been woken by the loud banging that presumably came from the shoes of whomever-was-approaching. Gaara waited, safe in the knowledge that he could kill whoever it was before they could scream for help, if they meant any harm to himself or his friend, Sirius. However, when the man had burst into the room he seemed more startled by the presence of a second person, other than Sirius, than Gaara had been that the intruder had entered the room so brashly.

Remus Lupin had been the one to help Sirius get to the Shrieking Shack, being one of the few people who knew the real reason it made the terrible sounds on the nights of the full moon. Then he had left, several weeks ago, to deal with some problems that had arisen with his application for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post. When he had arrived back at Hogwarts to drop off his books and most of his other worldly possessions, he had not been given the chance to visit his oldest living friend until the entire teaching staff had been told to go around the surrounding area to warn the villagers that there would be a sweep by the dementors. To that day Lupin didn't know how much Dumbledore had known about his involvement with Sirius' escape, but it was a great opportunity nonetheless to warn his friend.

"Padfoot, who's that?" Lupin exclaimed as he looked down at the strange teenager who was looking directly back at him with terrifying eyes.

As Sirius groggily sat up, resting back on one elbow, he replied, "His name is Lily," he quickly corrected himself as he saw the terrifying glare that was now being directed towards him, "-at least, that's what I call him. His real name is Gaara."

"Gaara?"

"I still think Lily suits him better; you see it too, don't you? The resemblance..." Sirius remarked whilst hoisting himself up to standing position.

Lupin was about to laugh at his friend's antics but was too afraid of the boy who was now sitting cross-legged under the blankets glaring intently at the man with the beard.

"I meant, where did he come from?"

"Gaara here, is a ninja from another country," Sirius said before continuing after he saw a blank look on his friends face, "He was badly injured, so I thought I would take care of him until he was back to full health."

"Is he a, um… muggle?" Lupin all but whispered the last part, as if it was curse, although in actuality it was more likely he didn't want to say a wizarding term in front of a suspected muggle.

"Well, no and yes," Said Black, with a slightly confused look on his face, much like the one of Lupin's own face. "He can use magic, but he's never been schooled in wizardry."

"Excuse my friend here," Lupin had turned to the now calm looking Gaara, "Sirius here has the best intentions but… why don't you tell me about yourself."

After ignoring the taken aback look the man behind him had displayed at his casual insult, Remus waited for the answer that didn't come until Sirius exclaimed "Oh! Right! I forgot to mention, Gaara can't talk."

"Don't you think it would have been a good idea to tell me that first, Sirius?" Lupin sighed as he apologized to the annoyed mute.

"So, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Moony?" Sirius swiftly changed the subject.

"Well, I was going to tell you that there's going to be a sweep of the area by dementors soon, and the teachers were told to go and warn anyone not on the run but I thought it might be good if I gave you a heads up anyway." Lupin said, shortly before turning on his heel and walking to the broken old door out of the bedroom they were currently in. "I suggest you turn into Padfoot and make yourself scarce as well as mister Gaara here before those monsters are upon you."

"Thank you, old friend. I'll see you again soon, I hope."

"Maybe. It was nice meeting you Gaara."

And with those few words, the short visit was over.

"Will you be okay without me for a few hours?" Sirius asked.

*Nod*

"Okay, good. Just go and wait in Hogsmeade for a while until the all clear is sounded and then make your way back here." He said as he too turned towards the pale green door, "And if you feel a chill or hear that a dementor is near, run. They are evil monsters that will suck the soul out of you."

Another *nod*

"I'll see you later; I need to talk to you about something when I get back. I might be going away for a few days."

Soon Gaara was left in the old room all on his own, and didn't waste any more time before strapping his gourd to his back and walking out of the house after attaching his forehead protector around his neck to hide his most prominent visible scar.

The streets of Hogsmeade were barren with no more than two or three wizards quickly scuttling around with terrified looks set upon their faces. 'Oh, how nostalgic.' Gaara bitterly thought, 'Just like home; all it needs now is-'

"Monster!" Gaara was surprised when it actually happened.

About twenty feet down the street, stood a man backing away slowly from a floating black hooded… monster. The thought 'At least he wasn't talking to me...' passed through the shinobi's mind briefly before he started to walk forwards, towards the disturbance. He couldn't just sit back and watch someone get their soul sucked out; plus, he wanted to use his powers properly for the first time since his arrival in the strange land. Stretch his proverbial legs.

As soon as the red head had come within ten feet of the wraith-like creature, it seemed to spasm into activity and completely ignored the man who was now running for his life, or, rather, his soul.

The dementor seemed to swim through the air towards the tanuki-host, who had since removed the cork from his gourd and was readying himself for the dementor's attack. It came close to him, and that was when he felt its terrible effects, except they didn't seem all that terrible to him, in fact, he barely noticed the difference except the temperature drop.

The only other effect that Gaara felt was that he began to relive every bad word said to him and every one of his murders and rampages, but Gaara was not ashamed to admit that he had never forgotten those travesties. He may have been reliving them more vividly than he had in even his most daunting nightmare, but he wasn't bothered by the recollection. He was a boy with a sad past, one of the saddest pasts in either of the two worlds, and so the dementors were predictably drawn to him but he would never forget the bad things that had happened and the bad things he had caused. Like someone had once taught him, he couldn't be distracted by dwelling on the horrors of his past, just move forward and protect those who were precious to him.

In other words, he was depressed even without the help of dementors.

The dementor was so close to Gaara, only now could he really appreciate the size of the reaper, all eight feet of it. Just as one of its disgusting, deformed and decomposing arms slid towards his neck with every intention of choking him half to death before kissing the soul out of him, just as the fingers were within grabbing distance of his hitai-ate, a wall of sand seemed to appear out of nowhere next to the prison guard before it slammed into it with such force that it was sent into the wall of the shop over thirty feet away. Unfortunately, for Gaara, because of the almost liquid form of the thing, it was still able to fly away after the savage beating it had just received without so much as a stumble or twitch.

Shaking off the persistent chill, the Jinchūriki walked away, hoping he would get another chance to get some battle practice before he returned to the shack.

It was about an hour later, an hour of boredom and aimless wandering without seeing a single human or dementor in all of that time, when he spotted another human being. The man was relatively tall, was wearing all black robes and had shoulder-length black hair, which was greasier than… anyone or anything he could think of. The man had a nasty sneer on his face as he strolled through the village with his arms crossed in front of his chest, which made Gaara internally chuckle slightly at the similarity to his own fighting pose. The similarities seemed to end there as the man approached Gaara as looked straight down his nose at the shorter, odd looking boy who also had his arms crossed which he immediately disliked.

"Boy!" He spoke demanding respect "What are you doing out here? Or are you too stupid to understand that dementors are patrolling this area for the mass murderer Sirius Black?" Each syllable of the sarcastic and rhetorical question was pronounced clearly and concisely making it all the more annoying. Gaara really wished he could speak because there were a few choice words he might have spoken to the patronising man before him, and most of them would have earned him a lengthy lecture from Temari.

"Who are you, anyway? I would have remembered instructing someone like you." He questioned Gaara, giving a curious and almost disgusted look towards Gaara's tattered and foreign clothes. "You couldn't be a student of Hogwarts, even Hogwarts wouldn't let someone as dirty and uncouth as you enter. Now tell me who you are and what is that ridiculous thing on your back?" He said fully expecting the small boy before him to break down and tell him anything he wanted to know, but no changes could be seen except that a contemptuous glare had formed on the boy's face. "By the looks of your hair I might even hazard a guess at a Weasley. Now, answer me!" Snape was getting angry by the point. Just the defiant look upon the strange boy's face was enough to ignite rage in him and was further fueled by the boy's continuing silence.

Without as much as an explanatory gesture, Gaara gave the man a quick once-over before turning around and walking away.

This, of course, enraged Snape sufficiently for him to draw his wand at the boy, hoping to scare the retched mongrel, but no sooner had his hand come out of his pocket than the ground around them began to frost over lightly.

Snape immediately regretted being there. As a relatively powerful wizard, Snape could defeat around five dementors or so with relative ease, but swooping down on them were around twenty and they seemed intent on the young tattooed boy who had since stopped walking and was standing completely still with his arms crossed and a almost unnoticeable smirk on his face, confirming Snape's suspicion of madness.

'Doesn't the boy know what is happening?' Snape screamed in his head as he backed away, hoping another one of the professors might chance by them and help, otherwise the boy was going to be kissed by the dementors. He might have been able to fight off the dementors present, but by the time he had scared them off, he would have been at the mercy of anything else that deemed fit to do him harm, including other dementors searching the area or even Sirius Black.

The entire multitude swam around Gaara and, for a moment, it looked as if he wasn't even there, just a pile of swirling black capes were visible but then something strange, even for wizards, happened. Out of nowhere, dozens of sandy coloured spikes burst from the sphere of dementors, killing many of them. The rest continued circling around the ball of sand covered in the large spikes that had impaled the billowing monsters only moments before.

Snape was at a loss for words. No magic he had ever heard of could do this. His short-lived musings were interrupted once again by the transformation of the spikes on the outside of the ball of sand into pointed tentacles that easily outnumbered the remaining prison guards. They soon finished off the last of the remaining monsters, receding into the ball of sand afterwards, before that too dissolved back into the gourd on the small red-head's back. Severus hadn't even noticed his mouth had been left agape until the boy had started to walk away again.

The potions master was unsure whether it would be wise to take the boy back to the castle, but as he watched the red-head walk away from him, he didn't have time to think things through more fully. He ran towards the boy and was about to grab his shoulder so he could drag him back to the castle, however, when his hand was within a few inches of the boy's body, a shield of sand stopped it from progressing any further.

"Boy! Come with me!" He commanded, trying once again with the other shoulder only to, once again, be stopped by the protective layer of sand that had hindered him before.

After the second attempt at grabbing him had failed, Gaara walked slightly faster away from the strange man who had, at first, seemed repulsed by the very sight of him and inclined to insult him, but now seemed intent on getting the him to go with him. It was only when Sabaku no Gaara noticed the man was still following him, that he relented. He couldn't risk leading the incredibly irritating man, apparently a teacher, back to Sirius and the shack.

Gaara turned around on his heel to look the man-of-grease in the eye.

Severus was shocked by this fortunate turn of events, though not for long as he spoke soon after "Follow me, and quickly."

The shinobi did consider using the body-flicker technique to escape or attack the man and run, but from what he had heard of magic from the escapee, who was undoubtedly skulking around the woods still, the hook nosed magician would probably be able to use some sort of spell to track him. In any case, he realised that his best bet would be to follow the taller man to wherever he needed to follow him to and sneak away later. In the worst case scenario he could simply use his sand and perform a little burial. It's hard for a corpse to track a person.

Snape had turned around when the other boy had signalled he would follow, and started to walk back to Hogwarts. Whatever this boy had done was remarkable and he guessed it was due to that strange item on his back. No doubt that it was some sort of dark magical artefact. It could be quite useful to them in the future.

The trek was quite difficult for the pale potions expert, as opposed to the trained ninja who often took longer strolls to wake himself up in the morning. By the time they had both reached the castle, the sky was just beginning to dim.

Snape then had to think of how to get the senior teachers attention without owling them or going around to each of their offices one by one. It was times like these that he wished he could use the dark mark, that'd get their attentions quickly enough.

What irritated the man more than the thought of them having to traipse around the entire castle was the sight of professor Dumbledore standing outside of the entrance, flanked by Lupin, McGonagall and Argus Filch; how Albus had known the boy and him were coming irked him greatly. The resident caretaker seemed decidedly disgruntled to be there, though his unhappiness was closely rivalled by Snape himself who wanted nothing more than a quiet year of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, but he had been passed over for the job once again.

"Good evening, Severus," Albus quietly said as he welcomed the two into the castle.

Gaara wasn't quite sure what to say, he couldn't have said it even if he knew, but nonetheless he wouldn't have known what to say anyway. He had followed the grossly unfit man towards the expansive castle that was bigger than the Kazekage's building and the Daimyo's castle combined. None of this awe, however minor, showed on the mute's face as they approached the open doors of the enormous castle.

"Headmaster," Snape greeted back in his usual annoyed way before stepping to the side so that the teen following him could walk to the front and the others could deal with him. "I was searching the village for Black, and warning everyone of the dementors, when I saw this boy-" He said, giving the scary child a quick glance, "-kill over twenty dementors, without a wand."

At that statement, most gasped and even Dumbledore lowered his gaze so that he could look directly at the boy. What really scared the old man were the boy's eyes. No matter the feat that Severus had reported the boy to have done; those eyes told so many more chilling and unknowable stories that for the first time in over a decade, he was actually afraid of something. None of this showed on his face of course, but it sent chills up and down Albus' spine.

"What's your name, young man?" He said, managing to avoid concentrating on the eyes of the boy in front of him.

"He won't speak," Snape said with pure malice dripping off his voice.

"Can you speak?" Albus asked slowly and caringly.

Gaara calmly shook his head, confirming the old man's suspicions. Gaara reached back and pulled the cork out of his gourd of sand, which instantly made Severus draw his wand. He had seen the destructive force of this boy's weapon and he wasn't about to risk letting a massacre happen right in front of him.

The sand slowly crept out of the gourd, slowly because Gaara knew he was scaring the man who had been identified as 'Severus', and didn't want to be cursed with what he could only assume was one of the wands that he had been told about by Sirius.

The sand was hovering in the air now in wavy patterns until it started to form into more discernible shapes, the shapes of letters. The letters spelt out 'Hello, my name is Gaara.'

He had to admit, this way was much easier than writing on the wall, though he imagined it would appear a little more conspicuous.

"Hello Gaara, my name is Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Dumbledore replied to the silent teen's greeting. "Would I be correct in assuming that you're a wizard?"

'No.'

"Oh," This shocked the aging man "then, are you a squib?"

Again 'No.'

"A relative of a witch or wizard?" Albus Dumbledore was seriously unsure of what else the boy could have been. Maybe a humanoid magical creature? It would explain the eyes and the panda look.

'No.' The sand had deformed and reformed each time the same answer was given to erase any chance of confusion, but the elderly man still looked more confused than a Suna villager told that Gaara wasn't going to kill them.

'I've never been trained in magic.' Gaara formed in front of himself.

"Hmm... well; it's getting cold out here, why don't we retire inside and have something warm to eat and have a little chat." Albus motioned inside, whilst the other teachers started to wander back into the castle now that the matter had been resolved for now, until only one was left. That one was Remus Lupin.

The ill looking man walked up to Gaara as they proceeded inside of the impressive castle and whispered into his ear discretely, "Don't worry, I'll tell our mutual friend what's happening." before he turned off down a different hallway.

The red head was glad regarding this assurance. As much as he loathed his nickname, Sirius had been good to him and he did consider him as something at least resembling a friend. He still wasn't all too sure about the whole friendship thing.

Eventually Gaara's thoughts were interrupted when they arrived at a dead end in the corridor. Gaara surveyed his surroundings and saw nothing of great interest. The only thing that was different from any other hallway was the large gryphon statue set into the wall.

With a quizzical look towards the old man in front of him, Gaara continued to study the statue that was the only item of interest in the hallway, except the ancient man but he was sure he would have plenty of time to find out about him later on.

"Jelly bean." The man said out of the blue, making Gaara question the man's sanity, but fortunately the headmaster of the school was not as senile as he seemed by any means as the gargoyle began to turn, magically, making a loud grinding sound of stone against stone.

"Please, follow me." The old man said as he stepped towards the hole where the statue had once stood, now replaced by the stone staircase that had spiralled upwards after the gryphon statue.

They both ascended up the narrow staircase until they reached a door which was immediately opened and passed through. Into the large office Gaara followed, who couldn't help but feel a slight envy at the size and magnitude of the room in comparison to the slightly bleak looking Kazekage's office.

Dumbledore had moved to the chair on the far side of the grand desk before motioning for the red-head to sit down also.

As he did, he couldn't help but notice the magnificent bird sitting on a pedestal several feet from the desk. The red and orange bird looked to be made of nothing but flames and grace. He was dragged from his thoughts by the words spoken by the only other human in the room.

"His name is Fawkes. He's a phoenix." The wise old man stated, as he too gazed at the intelligent bird.

"Now, onto more prudent matters. Mister Gaara, as I understand things, you cannot speak and you have magical potential but have never been taught, is that correct?"

*Nod*

"May I ask, where are you parents?"

Gaara thought about this question, for more than one reason. Firstly, he had to think about whether to reveal that he was technically an orphan, and secondly, he had to think of an appropriate gesture to signal that they were dead after deciding to tell the truth, in part. He didn't want to use his sand to communicate every little message.

Gaara raised his hand and clenched his fist whilst his thumb was pointing outwards, then slowly he slid his thumb across his throat.

Dumbledore seemed to understand, as he said "I am sorry to hear that, as, by the looks of your clothes, you don't have anywhere else to stay. Would you like to join Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Gaara quickly shook his head. He didn't know where, or in what world he was in, but he didn't have time to be in school. Additionally, there was Sirius, who could use all the friends he could get.

"Are you sure I can't change your mind? This school is an enjoyable place to learn and a good base for whatever else you plan to do in life..."

At this Gaara paused; this man knew more than he was letting on and it was a little unnerving. He thought for a while but finally nodded his head slowly and thoughtfully. If he attended this strange school, he could help Sirius find his godson and possibly find a way home.

"Ah, splendid, I'll have Professor McGonagall sort out your paperwork. Term starts on the first of September so I'll arrange for one of the teachers to escort you to Diagon Alley; it's the best place to purchase your school supplies." One might ask why the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore was so intent on acquiring the young boy and to have him attend Hogwarts that year and the answer would be fear. Everything about this boy scared him, more than Voldemort, more than Gellert Grindelwald. He needed to know more about whatever this boy was and what his intentions were. As an added bonus, he could use him to protect Harry that year from Sirius Black, whether or not he was guilty was unimportant in the face of a threat like a serial killer after the boy-who-lived. Better safe than sorry.

"Until you go to get your supplies tomorrow, you'll be staying in one of the houses of Hogwarts" Dumbledore pressed the tip of his wand to his desk and spoke clearly "Advoco Snape"

"Oh; do you want to visit your home to collect your things, Gaara?"

The Jinchūriki shook his head, wondering idly if he'd forgotten any of his personal affects in the shack; not that he could risk going back there any time soon, anyway.

Several minutes later the door opened to reveal a clearly annoyed Snape.

"You called for me, headmaster?"

"Yes, Severus. Please show young Gaara here to the Slytherin chambers. He will be attending Hogwarts this year. Now that I think about it, how old are you Gaara?"

Gaara held up his hands and flashed his splayed hand once each signifying ten plus three fingers on one hand. Thirteen overall.

"Perfect, you will be a third year."

Snape, not bothering with any pleasantries led his unlucky-find to the cellars of the large castle before he muttered a password quietly and proceeded inside, not bothering to wait for his charge.

The room inside the hole in the wall of the grimy cellar was much more lavish than one would have expected, but Gaara didn't show anything on his face as he continued walking after the gloomy potions master.

They arrived at a dark oak door at the end of one of the twin hallways that they had walked down. Snape inspected the name plate on the door before he opened it to reveal several royal looking black-wood beds with green and silver sheets, matching the various other curtains and tapestries as well as cupboards and wardrobes. All in all, the place looked quite liveable but for the coldness, but Gaara was all too used to sleeping in cold conditions. Quite a few windows got broken in his house.

"Goodnight." Snape said scathingly before closing the door and storming back to his own quarters to brood over the ridiculous treatment of his time by the headmaster as well as the fact that an unsorted, uneducated and possibly unhinged teenager had been admitted to the noble and sacred area of Slytherin.

Said unhinged-teenager was tired enough that he didn't even consider exploring the castle, thus he decided to undress and climb into the surprisingly warm and comfortable bed. He set his gourd down next to the bed, in case someone decided that he would be vulnerable in his sleep and attacked him. Usually the minor trek and earlier excursion he had been on wouldn't have even fazed him but after several weeks of inactivity, he seemed to have lost some muscle mass despite his small efforts.

The sand-nin went to sleep that night with one thought that quite often occurred to him as he was drifting off to sleep, how good it feels to be able to sleep.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara wasn't a sound sleeper, possibly because of the many years he had gone without sleep, possibly the stark ninja training he had endured as a child, or possibly the multiple attempts against his life over the years. But whatever was the cause, Gaara was now awake. He could hear someone trying to be stealthy and sneak up on him but they obviously had not undergone training. The heavy footed man, judging from the volume of the footfalls, had entered the room and was slowly making his way over to the left side of his bed. Gaara didn't even bother opening his eyes. It didn't matter who they were, the sand would protect him without fail.

The man walked up to within a metre of the bed and with a fluttering of a cloak the quiet sound of "Stupefy" was spoken. As soon as the red light had started out of the wand, the cork of the gourd had popped out and the entire bed Gaara was lying in was encase in a shield of sand at least an inch or two thick.

Soon enough the intruder left understanding that any further attempts would be futile.

Gaara recalled his sand back into its storing place before turning over on the bed and going back to sleep.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara awoke in the morning without prompting and rose to a sitting position on the king-sized bed.

The perpeually tired teenager didn't take long to exit the warmth of the bed and make his way out of the room to look for the closest shower. Luckily it appeared that after every few bedroom doors there was a clearly marked bathroom door. It seemed as if the communal showers were each for the different year groups, if the plaques on the doors were to be believed.

After a quick shower, Gaara dried himself off and redressed in his clothes before strapping the giant gourd on his back and walking towards the exit of the dormitories that led back into the dingy dungeons. He was silently thankful that he didn't need to know the password to exit it again, otherwise he would have had to wait for that bat impersonator to let him out, and he didn't like his chances living by the mercies of the clearly scornful man.

He kept walking until he came upon the stairs that would lead back up to the main body of the castle. By the trip it took to get up, he guessed that the bowels of the school that he had stayed in for the night were quite far underground, and from the decay on the roof, he used his keen ninja prowess to deduce that the entire house had been situated under the lake… his keen ninja prowess and that the windows in his room had showed darkened water in the morning. But mostly the prowess thing.

He finally came into a part of the vast castle that he recognised, which wasn't overly helpful as it might have just looked similar. All of the hallways looked more or less the same to the foreign teenager.

Gaara was hoping he could make it out of the castle to see Sirius again, to tell him that he would be staying at the school for the time being. Unfortunately, he couldn't find the exit, nor could he find the headmaster's office. He only found one of the hundreds of corridors lined with paintings, suits of armour and the occasional wooden door.

By the time he had been insulted by the fiftieth or so moving painting, he was beginning to get angry. He was really lost.

Tired of aimlessly wandering, he trudged over to the nearest door and opened it to reveal… a broom closet... Sighing, he went to the next one along and opened it to reveal a large classroom with many ancient looking desks and benches. At the end of the room there was a set of stair leading to an office at the back.

Gaara walked forwards, hoping that the room beyond might hold someone capable of steering him towards the exit.

He walked up the small set of steps and knocked on the door lightly. The answer came in the form of a soft voice calling through the door, "Come in," in an almost curious manner, justifiable by the fact that the only people supposed to be in Hogwarts that week were a few teachers and support staff, and none of which were usually up that early or had any business with him.

The red-head opened the creaking door and practically stumbled into the cluttered office to find a very tired looking man sitting behind a small desk littered with papers, trying desperately to finish all of his work before the first of September, unbeknownst to most, for two reasons.

Lupin looked up from his desk and smiled wearily at the apparently forever angry-looking teen standing in the doorway with his giant gourd on his back and abnormal garb along with the bandanna covering his neck.

"Good morning Lily, how may I help you?" Lupin couldn't resist joining in on his friend's joke, plus the look on the red-head's face was more amusing than an upside down Severus.

Gaara reached behind himself to remove the cork from his storage device, debating whether to answer him or give him a desert funeral. He chose the former as the sand floated out and formed the words 'Need to see Sirius,' before it dissolved and reformed as 'Tell him what's happening.' The tanuki host was seriously glad that he could use his sand like this; it would have been hell writing everything out all of the time.

"I'm afraid you can't go to see him at the moment, Gaara," Remus said with a sigh at the look of confusion on the younger's face. "I've been asked to escort you to Diagon Alley to buy your supplies for the school year. Then you'll be staying in an inn on the Alley until you come back here," He explained. "By that time, the rest of the dementors will be guarding the grounds of Hogwarts and it will be impossible to sneak out to the Shack, especially for a student like you."

'I need to tell him about what has happened'

"How about this; before we go to buy your supplies, I'll go and meet with Sirius and tell him. I'll say I'm picking up some ingredients for a potion." Lupin smiled at his own inventiveness and the look of relief that was present on the boy's face despite his efforts to remain stoic.

'Ok,' He was about to call his sand back when a couple of thoughts crossed his mind. 'Food?'

"'Food'?" Lupin questioned the mute teen, "Oh! Breakfast! You're hungry." He exclaimed realising the boy probably hadn't eaten anything since the morning before, and from what he remembered, Sirius was never a great cook. "Just go out the door, turn left and walk to the end of the hallway, turn right and then walk until you reach the stairs. Go down two floors and then walk to the third hallway on your left and that should lead you to the Great Hall where you can get some food." It made Lupin internally laugh when he realised how complicated the directions were. He had been in the school for so long that he instinctively knew his way around better than he did his own home.

Gaara replied with a curt nod as he set off. Luckily for him, he had a great memory, being a ninja and all, so finding the Great Hall shouldn't be too difficult. Hopefully.

As the sand shinobi was about to walk out of the office's door, he turned back and let his sand change into words that made Remus laugh uproariously. 'Call me Lily again and I'll make you eat all of the sand in this gourd.'

Gaara didn't dawdle on his way to the 'Great Hall', being too hungry to take time to glare at the rude paintings. That being said, when he arrived he did take a moment to admire the splendor of the hall. He had to admit, the name fit.

Inside of the expansive room were several long dining tables that ran side by side, and a slightly shorter one that ran horizontally at the other end of the hall. The roof, the little that could be seen, showed many elaborate crossbeams that were, for the most part, hidden by what looked like the sky. It was, for lack of a better term, enchanting. On the walls on either side of him, Gaara looked at the banners that were hung from the ceiling to a few metres above the floor, that displayed what he guessed were symbols that represented the four houses of Hogwarts.

The only other people in the hall looked almost surprised to see him enter. There was an aging stern-looking woman in green robes and a stereotypical witch hat, who he recognised from the night before; a giant, messy looking man with a black bushy beard and hair that seemed to encompass most of his head and face, who seemed to recognise him from somewhere; finally in the centre of the table, in the fanciest chair, sat the headmaster of the school. Unlike the other two, Dumbledore seemed to awaken from his surprise first, as he gestured for the smallish teen to come forwards towards them.

Gaara came forwards until he was standing only a few meters in front the dark wood table.

"Good morning, Gaara." Dumbledore chimed as he looked at the boy before him with his ever calculating blue eyes.

Gaara nodded in return, not bothering to use his sand to reply.

"This is the boy I was telling you about earlier, Minerva," Albus said to the stern woman. "Gaara, this is the deputy headmistress and professor of Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall." Gesturing to his right, and to his left, "This is Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts and, starting this year, will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures." The large man smiled warmly at Gaara.

"I imagine you must be hungry," The elderly wizard commented, as he raised his hands and clapped them together, causing a variety of breakfast foods to appear on the nearest table, close to the front.

Gaara eventually happily sat and ate the delicious food, being cautious when he first tried pumpkin juice to check for poisons. Although the food was good, so very good compared to the 'food' Sirius prepared for him, it couldn't hold a candle to his sister, Temari's cooking, back in Sunagakure.

The entire meal was eaten in silence, after which the sickly Professor Lupin walked in through the back entrance to the hall with a nervous smile on his face and sweat on his brow. Gaara assumed he'd gone as quickly as he could to explain Gaara's situation to Sirius and had, just as quickly, rushed back.

After Gaara had waited for the man to finish his breakfast, he was asked to follow him to the headmaster's office along with the current owner of the office.

When they had stepped into the office, the two professors walked to the unlit fire place and looked expectantly at Gaara. Gaara in turn, walked towards them apprehensively, prompting an explanation from Lupin. "Today we'll be traveling by floo. I assume you haven't used floo before." He said "All you need to do, is pick up some of the floo-powder in the pot and clearly say-" that was when Lupin stopped dead in his tracks, realising that the boy lacked the ability to speak, thus couldn't use floo-powder.

"Oh; headmaster, Gaara here can't speak, so what should we do? He can't just write the address," Lupin said, hoping for a quicker solution than taking the Hogwarts express to London.

"Don't worry, Remus; just walk to the outskirts of the grounds and Apparate the both of you straight to London, but be careful of the Dementors."

"Thank you, headmaster."

After a few parting words between the professor and the headmaster, the pair exited the office and walked to the Slytherin dormitory area, where Gaara deposited his sand after much coercion and reassurance from the teacher. The next stop was a grassy clearing quite a ways away from the castle; where, upon arrival, Lupin took a hold of the Jinchuriki's shoulder. Gaara didn't know what to expect, or what 'Apparating' was, but nothing anyone could have said could have quite prepared him for the disagreeable sensation of traveling by Apparition. It was in no way even close to as bad as the technique that had brought him to that world, but it still wasn't pleasant. The feeling of being pulled in every direction whilst simultaneously being squeezed in all of the same directions. Needless to say, Gaara barely landed on his feet.

"Very impressive, most don't land so elegantly after their first time," Lupin chuckled as he led the slightly peeved teen into a grotty pub called 'The Leaky Cauldron'. Inside of the dingy bar were a multitude of robed men and women that the trained teen immediately identified as wizards and witches by their attire and the sensation they emitted, like chakra but more focussed and controlled, though unknowingly it would appear.

The pale teacher didn't stop for pleasantries as he walked straight through the crowded pub, not earning so much as a second glance, which was more than could be said for the red-haired, tattooed, ninja garb wearing, scowling, scary teenager following him. Gaara was well versed in the art of ignoring the judging masses, but it was refreshing to be judged for what he looked like and not for what he had inside of him.

Just outside the back door was a narrow area with a tall, red brick wall that seemed to be about the most interesting thing there.

Remus removed his wand from his robes and tapped one of the bricks, causing them to make a grinding noise. Gaara wasn't expecting the large gateway to form as the bricks moved and turned out, revealing a bustling high-street that put Hogsmeade to shame in most ways.

"Please, follow me and stick close. Can't have you getting lost here can we? I heard there's a mass murderer on the loose," The scarred man laughed as he proceeded onwards into the crowd. Every few moments he would look back to check if his charge was still following him. Diagon Alley always got really busy in the last few days before the start of the school term. It just so happened that that very day was the busiest day of the year. Luck shines on us all.

Lupin waded through the crowd until he reached an obscure marble building, covered in pillars that seemed to bulge outwards in the middle from the weight of the roof. The inside of the bank was quieter than outside but that didn't make it any less interesting for Gaara as he first saw the strange creatures walking across the floor with scowls almost as prominent as his own. The pink skinned, pointy eared, squat creatures all wore a kind of surreal banker's uniform.

Remus, after waiting in line with Gaara, led him towards the towering desk manned by one of the odd midgets. Lupin, like any learned wizard, usually would have warned the boy about the Goblin's viscous temperaments but as the chance of the boy saying something insulting was fairly low, he didn't bother. He just wanted to get the money and leave as soon as possible.

They removed some funds from one of Hogwarts' many vaults with a signed letter from Dumbledore to pay for Gaara's various expenses. By the looks of sack of gold that had been removed, Gaara surmised that it wasn't going to be cheap.

The first stop on their tour of Diagon Alley was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which, as the name suggested, was where the ninja was going to purchase his new clothes. If he was honest, Gaara didn't really want to give up his normal attire, but as he had been told by Lupin that the uniform was absolutely mandatory and if he didn't wear it, he couldn't attend the school.

They both entered into the shop but Lupin hung back by the entrance and let Gaara get on with it, knowing that the cold boy wouldn't appreciate someone looking over his shoulder or holding his hand.

Gaara walked through the cluttered shop whilst he tried to gain a worker's attention. It wasn't easy as they seemed preoccupied with cutting the various fabrics and cloths around the store or walking into the back of the shop for whatever reason.

Eventually, due to his attempts at waving and tapping gently on the desks, one of the older workers looked around and saw him standing there. It was then he realised the fault in his plan, the fact that he couldn't talk. It seemed he had underestimated how troublesome the 'mute' thing would be. As she looked and waited for Gaara to ask for something, the woman started to look annoyed, judging by the glower forming on her face.

"Yes? What do you want?" She was getting steadily more annoyed by Gaara's impudent silence. "Look, if you're just going to waste-"

"I'm very sorry, my young friend here can't speak," Lupin interjected, feeling terribly guilty that he'd forgotten to help the disabled Gaara. "He's here to purchase a full set of third year robes for school."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know." The woman flustered whilst trying to change the subject "Hogwarts?"

"Yes, please."

"Please step this way," She gestured to behind a curtain that led to the back of the store, presumably where they would do the measuring and/or fittings. He was right, by the looks of the podiums standing in the middle of the room and the few workers who buzzed around, one or two of them attending to the boy currently standing on one of the podiums. He looked unhappier to be there than Gaara did. Every few moments he would snap at one of the workers for the most miniscule infraction or mistake. Gaara couldn't help but agree, he hated clothes shopping as well.

The woman moved over to another podium and gestured for Gaara to step onto it so his measurements could be taken. The mute wasn't too thrilled but he did not make much of a fuss. When he was at the proper height the woman walked over to one of the various tables and picked up a measuring tape. She moved in front of Gaara and dropped one end of the measuring device so that it was fully stretched out before she removed her wand and flicked it at the tape. Soon after, the instrument flew in the air and began to slither and wave like a snake, before it started to measure the peeved teen.

As the tape measure worked and woman walked around the store searching for the materials needed, Gaara looked over to the only other current customer. The moody teen was about his height, a little taller, with slicked back platinum-blonde hair, that's right, you know him, you love to hate him, the one, the only… Draco Malfoy.

The upper-class teen looked over to the even stranger red-head and was duty-bound to introduce himself, in case the boy was someone important or their son. "Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy. And you are?"

Gaara now understood the key difference between him and the other; he wasn't a brat… anymore.

Malfoy continued to look over at the other expectantly, waiting for a reply, hoping for someone with powerful connections and not another mudblood, half-blood or blood-traitor. Soon after the question was posed, Draco was becoming agitated by the other's silence.

"I asked what your name was," He said trying his best not to shout or lose his composure.

Gaara looked just as annoyed as him but didn't shout or even talk; he just reached up to the strange bandanna thing around his neck and pulled it down slightly to reveal a large recently healed scar over his throat.

"Oh, I apologize," Draco said graciously, for him, "Are you from a pure-blooded family?" He needed to know whether it was even worth his time talking to someone who might be as worthless as a mudblood or a blood traitor like the Weasley, and by the looks of his clothes, he might not be far off the mark.

Gaara had to think for a minute about the question. Pure blood? Could he be referring to his class? In which case he would definitely be pure-blooded, coming from a long line of prominent shinobi and a Kage for a father. After he had taken his time thinking about his non-verbal answer he nodded his head slowly.

If Draco was honest with himself he would have had to admit that he wouldn't have guessed the other teenager's status but was glad nonetheless. The look on the stranger's face was scarier than his father's had ever been, and looked like it could get much worse so the chances were good that he wouldn't be as annoying as some of the supposed pure-bloods he knew.

"You're all done, Mr. Malfoy. You can go now; we'll send your robes to your address. Thank you again." The seamstress said as he helped him down from the podium and went to one of the tables and started writing notes of some description.

"Well, I guess I'll see you later," Malfoy said before exiting the shop, completely ignoring Lupin who was more than happy to continue to wait and daydream.

"What house are you, dear?" The woman, who had since returned and removed the measuring tape, asked. Gaara shrugged. The woman wrote something down in her notebook before asking "Is there any particular type of robes you need or do you want a full set?" As she went back to her little notepad she the seemed to remember something before raising her head again "I'm so sorry!" She seemed flustered "Do you need a full set?" Gaara nodded, thankful she realised he was limited to yes or no questions. "Okay, I have all of your measurements. Please come back in about-" At this, the woman looked over at a clock in the corner of the room, "four hours."

Gaara once again nodded before he walked towards the door and waited for Remus to realise that he was about to leave without the man dreaming idly of steak. It wasn't too long before Lupin finished his inner musings and stood up, "Thank you very much, we'll come back at four."

"Shall we continue?" He asked rhetorically as they walked on, into the crowds with Gaara walking besides him. Instead of the comfortable silence that Gaara had enjoyed before, this time Lupin kept making a one-sided conversation about his past. He kept talking about his group of friends, the 'Marauders' and how one of them got married to a girl called Lily, for which Gaara got his despised nickname. How only one had had a son and he had become famous for killing a dark wizard, a boy named Harry who Sirius had been trying to meet with. Over the course of the walk, Lupin had even revealed his and his friend's nicknames. From what Sirius had told Lupin, he could definitely trust Gaara and it felt so great to relive and retell some of the adventures him and his friends had in their youth. By the time they had reached their next destination, Gaara wished he could reply to some of the tales that had been woven along the way, his reply would be "Shut up!"

They visited Pottage's Cauldrons before they stopped off at Slug & Jiggers Apothecary for Gaara's potion supplies. What made that leg of the journey that was school shopping unbearable was the smell in the potions supply shop. It was comparable to rotting eggs and some other mystery smells that made Gaara wish he'd eaten a bigger breakfast to throw up in order to make the point that the shop was unbearably bad smelling more clear. Luckily for Gaara, it seemed as if Lupin was having an even more difficult time in the shop as he quickly zoomed around the smelly store before purchasing the correct ingredients and zooming back out. Gaara was happy enough to zoom out along with him.

The next stop was a book shop by the name of Florish & Blotts, which had been a slightly more enjoyable trip as the shop keeper's assistant had looked close to tears when Lupin had read out the last book on the list, 'The Monster Book of Monsters.'

The stop that both Gaara and Lupin had been anticipating the most was upon them as Gaara looked up at the sign above the door saying 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.' They stepped into the empty shop; the only things in there were the endless boxes that seemed to be part of the walls. Before either had time to inspect the boxes more closely, an old man peered from behind the counter and said "Remus Lupin, it has been some time since I last saw you here. And…" At this the old white haired man seemed to become confused. "I'm sorry; may I ask what your name is?"

Lupin also looked confused. It was a well known and universally accepted fact that Ollivander always knew peoples' names and never forgot any wand he made or sold, but the fact that the boy in front of him had the man stumped was odd.

"His name is Lil-Gaara," Remus managed to catch himself before he called Gaara a girl's name again, however funny his reactions were.

"If you would, please raise you wand arm." It didn't take a genius to realise he meant his dominant arm, so Gaara did and for the second time that day a tape measure took his measurements without anyone holding it. The old man known as Ollivander went into the back of the shop and came back out carrying a small purple box. He pulled away the measuring tape and opened the box and presented the wand inside to the red-head. The red-head took the long slender stick and gave it a wave. Absolutely nothing happened. The old man took the wand back with a frown on his face before going back into the many stacks of wand boxes and came back with three or four more boxes. Gaara tried each of the wands inside of the boxes and the same happened each time, not a thing.

"Mr. Lupin, are you sure this boy isn't a squib?" The perplexed shop owner asked.

"Quite sure."

With a "Hmm," he went back and brought a massive range of different coloured boxes, most of which were different shapes and or sizes. Gaara tried each of the wands he was presented with, not sure what to expect, if anything.

"Very strange, I've never encountered such a difficult young wizard." The old man was honestly stumped.

"Really? I could've sworn I tried twice as many wands before I got the right one." Lupin said, remembering the number of broken windows and singed eyebrows.

"Very true, I specifically remember a number of destroyed chairs that day," The man seemed to be reminiscing "but in almost every one of the wands you tried, you got a reaction, even if it was a little adverse. With young mister Gaara here, there hasn't been a single reaction."

Ollivander sighed and walked back into the piles and came back with as many wands he could carry, not long after. Gaara gave each of the little sticks a wave before more were presented to him.

"I just don't know what to say, I'm afraid. The only thing I could suggest would be for Mister Gaara to come into the back and try to find one himself. The wand chooses the wizard, so with any luck he might be able to find the one that has chosen him, and if not… well, if not then he'll have to look somewhere else for a wand because I don't know what else to suggest." Ollivander sighed as he sat down on the chair in the corner of the room and gestured for Gaara to go ahead and look around.

The racoon-monster-host walked past the dusty counter and among the endless boxes. He tried to guess, taking down a few random boxes, but still nothing worked. An idea then popped into the ninja's head. He closed his eyes and tried, using his chakra, to search for anything that would correspond. It didn't take more than a second to sense the presence of something off. Something that shouldn't have been. He couldn't put his finger on what was so off about what he was sensing but he did know where he could find it.

Gaara walked to the very furthest wall of wand boxes in the back of the store and started to remove them as quickly as possible. He dug through them until he reached the last layer of boxes that seemed to be made of old and rotten wood instead of the cardboard the newer ones were made of. Gaara reached in and picked out one of those ancient boxes. He didn't open it immediately, instead he walked back to the front of the shop to find both the adults were in silence and obviously interested to see how it turned out.

Gaara walked into the customer section of the shop and laid the old box on the counter before carefully opening the the fragile lid. Inside was a simple black wand. The boy picked up the wand and the first thing he noticed was the compatibility he felt. The shape of the wand seemed perfect for his hand and not to mention the way his chakra flowed straight into it. Gaara gave the wand a flick like he had been told to before, and to the two adult's surprise, this time something happened. When the wand had been flicked a sudden burst of wind flew through the wand shop like a hurricane, throwing everything into disarray.

After the old man had righted himself and managed to order his thoughts he said, "Well, this is a surprise. I haven't had a reaction this strong in years. And to that wand no less," he walked around to the back of the counter and picked up his own wand. He then started to use his wand to make the hundreds of boxes and papers fly back into place all around him and the others.

"What is so special about that wand?" The ever-sickly looking professor asked as he also righted his tie and jacket.

"I have no idea. I honestly don't know what's in that wand. The wands in the back of the shop were made a long time before me. Though, from the looks of where young Gaara found that particular wand, it looks like it could be from the founder of this shop's original collection." He said as he continued the massive clean-up.

"How much will that be then?" Lupin asked as he reached into the bag ready to pay for the apparently antique wand.

Ollivander raised his hand to steady Lupin, "Please, this one will be on the house. I have never sold one of the wands from the very back of the store. To be able to have sold one of the original wands is a rare treat indeed, so I'll let you have it for free."

Gaara hadn't been listening to any of the conversation that was going on, as he was fixated on the black wand in his hand. The way it seemed to fit perfectly into the contours of his hand and the way his chakra and the chakra supplied by Shukaku was absorbed into the wood was almost as comforting as his trusted gourd full of sand.

"Thank you very much." Lupin said as he walked towards the door. Gaara bowed in respect to the strange man before exiting the shop with the wand that had been put in one of his pockets. On the way to the next stop Lupin continued his endless talk about his past and friends, but for some reason he seemed to leave a few key facts out. Like the reason he was discriminated against and why they were called Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.

The rest of the shopping expedition went without incident, for the most part, after which they picked up Gaara's robes. When they arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron, Sabaku no Gaara was more than just a little happy that he didn't have to go school shopping again for a very long time.

"Remus! Could I interest you in a drink?" Tom the bartender and landlord asked while pouring another customer a pint.

Lupin seemed to consider the offer before looking down at the bags in his hands and then at Gaara before turning back to the barman and politely refusing the offer and asking for a room for a few days. The key was given to Lupin before it was passed on to Gaara. Lupin then took Gaara off to one side and said quietly, "I'm going to leave you here for a few days while I finish preparations for this year. I'll also talk to Padfoot for you until you get the chance to see him. I'll come back on the first of September and ride the Hogwarts express with you."

With a curt nod from Gaara, Lupin departed out of the door and left Gaara to take all of his luggage to his room. He wouldn't have left any regular student on their own in a pub for the better part of a week, he was far too responsible for that sort of behaviour, but Gaara was far from normal and Lupin was sure that he could take care of himself for a few days.

After Gaara had dumped all of his baggage onto the floor, he decided to start reading some of the easier books he had been given. He was going to wait to read the Monster Book of Monsters; it had given the shop owner enough trouble to dissuade him from trying to open it without help, or at least without his sand.

It was a little known fact that Gaara liked to read. Many wouldn't believe that the psychopath would have liked to crack open a book, but over the years he had a lot of free time. When he was very young, his father had trained him to be a ninja but after Yashamaru died and the Kazekage sent numerous assassins to kill him, he was left with the limited time he spent doing missions and the miniscule time he spent training, occupied, leaving him with so much time to fill. He didn't even sleep, so he was left with massive amounts of time. He had taken up reading early on and could easily read a book within a few hours.

The rest of that day was spent reading, until Gaara was feeling hungry, at which point he decided to go down and get some dinner. Fortunately, Lupin had had the foresight to ask for meals included with the room; otherwise he might have had to go without eating for the week. He'd done it before and it wasn't fun. Like the time Temari had gone on a solo mission and Kankuro had been left to cook.

Downstairs was irritably noisier than in his room, Gaara decided, as he entered the crowded eating area. The black-eye-rimmed boy walked up to the bar and asked for something simple to eat. Tom said it would be done in a few minutes and just to wait by one of the tables. Easier said than done when the only space available was next to very rowdy family of red-heads laughing, shouting and joking making the teen shudder in disdain.

The red head sat down on one of the benches and tried to relax, which wasn't an easy task when the girl next to him kept raving about a newspaper and some boy. It was unbearable. At least, he thought, he didn't have to acknowledge them. That luxury didn't last long. "Hello, I'm Ginny Weasley," The younger girl beside him had turned to face him and seemed to be studying him and his odd appearance.

A minute or so passed before the girl started to look unsure of herself and then another minute of Gaara looking back at her with his ever calm face before she blurted out "S-sorry, I didn't mean to b-bother you." The emotional girl seemed to be close to tears by this point.

Before Gaara could do anything to calm the cry-baby girl down a pair of similarly red-headed twins walked up to where Gaara and Ginny were sitting and leaned down with dark frowns on their faces. "Oy! What-" One of the identical boys started aggressively.

"-did you say-" The second boy continued the sentence with just as much aggression in his tone.

"-to our little-"

"-sister?"

"You jerk." The first one finished the tirade.

Gaara realised that he couldn't always use his sand or write down his words, so he would have to repeat this one gesture very often. He raised his hand towards his neck, covered still by his forehead protector, and pulled down the neckwear slightly to reveal the visible scar that stretched across his throat.

"Oh,"

"Oh,"

"Oh," The three said before they all apologized sheepishly to the mute boy. Said mute boy had hoped that when that episode was over, he could go back to thinking quietly but it seemed that the event had drawn the attention of the others at the table. They all appeared to be of the same family and there were quite a few of them. Now that he looked closely, he noticed that at least one person wasn't of the same clan, by the looks of the brown bushy-haired girl.

"Ginny, Fred, George, stop bothering the poor boy," The woman, who Gaara assumed to be their mother, scolded.

"I'm sorry, dear," She said as she smiled at him from her seat on the opposite side of the table. Quickly, Gaara waved off any worries she might have had and then turned back and started to stare into the blank space in front of him. At that point, he was trying to think of any possible clues he had seen or heard to help him get him home but as of yet he hadn't thought of any that could be of use.

Gaara thoughts were interrupted when his dinner arrived, which he ate without any thought. It was good, but he just wanted to get back to reading. It was a good distraction from the world.

After he had finished the meal, he deposited the plate on the counter he had been told to and walked back upstairs, dodging a rat and the evil looking cat chasing after it. When he arrived upstairs he could already hear the indignant yelling of a boy and the reply, equally if not louder than the initial shout from a girl, not the one he had been talking to, or to put it correctly, the one that had been talking to him.

The rest of the night continued much the same as the day had, him reading through the books he had been given and wishing he had brought some of his sand with him. He had managed to get a few hours sleep that first night before resuming his reading the second day. He became so engrossed in it that he skipped breakfast and lunch without realising.

When he finally emerged from his room and went to eat, he spotted the family of red heads, plus the brown haired girl, sitting at the largest table, except this time there was also a black haired boy wearing glasses sitting next to the brown haired girl and the youngest looking red headed male.

Gaara tried to skirt around the table so he could avoid the noisy irritants, no matter how well meaning they may have been. Gaara had been trying to become a warmer and kinder person since his fateful encounter with the blonde Hokage-wannabe in his world but he had already made a friend in Sirius and maybe even Lupin so he didn't see why he needed to socialize with the loud people. Two friends was plenty.

As he was about to sit down on one of the smaller tables in the corner of the room, he was spotted by the mother who shouted over to him and asked him to join them for dinner. He tried for a weak smile and a polite silent refusal but she wouldn't have it and insisted for him to sit with her family.

He immediately regretted not disappearing when he was assaulted by the woman's questions about his eating habits and how skinny he looked. He suffered through it for ten minutes before she moved on to the even skinnier black haired boy sitting directly across from him.

"Mum, who's 'e?" The young ginger boy asked with a little food still in his mouth.

"Ronald, don't speak with your mouth full!" She scolded, she seemed to do that a lot.

"So, what's your name? I'm Ron Weasley." He said after swallowing his food and offering his hand out to Gaara to shake. He reluctantly did so, but did not verbally reply. Fortunately, before a repeat of yesterday happened the bushy brown haired girl spoke up.

"He can't speak Ron. We met him yesterday, remember?" She pointed out. He had indeed been there but he had apparently been too engrossed in his conversation to notice the slight altercation that had occurred.

Whilst he silently ate his food, Gaara couldn't help but notice the glasses wearing boy across from him. Something seemed to claw at his memory, other than Shukaku, something important that he should remember. He couldn't have met the boy before so why did he seem to ring a bell? His head snapped up in realisation. The glasses, the black hair, the slightly nerdy look and the almost hidden scar on the forehead. Sirius and Lupin had told him about Sirius' godson, and their good friend James' son, Harry Potter, called the-boy-who-lived.

That night Gaara's thoughts were drawn back to Sirius again; worry was at the forefront, closely followed by curiosity regarding the convict's recent activities, and the smallest was the constant loathing for the nickname that he had created for Gaara. The last thing he needed was people patronising him. It was almost as bad as Temari's behaviour towards him, doting on him and hugging him all the time. It somehow made him reminisce fondly about his serial killer days when even she wouldn't hug him or pat him on the head and laugh about how short and cute her baby brother was. It was a simpler time.

The next day was August the thirty-first and the last day he would spend in the Leaky Cauldron. It went much the same as the days that had passed before, except at about six in the evening, there came a tapping, as if someone was gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door, the red-head stood and opened the door, hoping beyond hope it wasn't one of the Weasley party, or a raven. The Weasleys were nice enough, just kind of annoying in their informal and rambunctious ways. To his relief, there stood Remus Lupin, looking much the same as he had when Gaara had last seen him, if a little paler and more sickly.

"Good morning Lily," He greeted cheerily, walking into the room, currently littered with open books and other items strewn out across the floor. Gaara wasn't a very tidy little ninja. "It's a bit messy in here," He stated, trying his best not to look the mute boy in the eyes for fear of his death glare.

"I thought I would stay here for tonight and then we'd go to the train station early tomorrow." He smiled. "So, have you been reading all of this time?" Lupin asked as he looked over some of the books scattered around the room.

Gaara nodded as he sat back down on the floor and picked up the book he had previously been reading, something called 'History of Hogwarts', or something like that, he didn't care about the title.

That night, the pair went down to eat later than usual, as Lupin had been filling the tanuki boy in on Sirius' activities. Which had included and were pretty much limited to: eating, hunting, running, sleeping and the one oddity was his trip to see Harry, Sirius' godson, which had ultimately been unsuccessful as he had only gotten a glimpse of the boy before he was taken by the Knight Bus to where they were now. As they went down later, they managed to avoid the loud people that would undoubtedly have been eating there earlier.

That night, Gaara had been kicked out of his bed and had to sleep on the floor. He didn't complain, he couldn't, but he wouldn't have, as he could see how sick the man was, but he still pouted as he turned restlessly on the hard wooden floor. Fortunately he was used to worse but still, he pouted.

In the morning, the sleepy man was awoken by a shake of his shoulder and opened his eyes to see the blazing red of one of his best friend's wife's hair; still not fully awake he said, "Morning Lily, where's James?" It was a few seconds later that his eyes fully focussed and he saw the incredibly peeved teen standing above him. It was an unsettling sight. "Sorry, thought you were someone else," He laughed nervously as he sat up and started getting ready for the long day ahead and the even longer night that it promised.

Little did Lupin know, Gaara also hated full moons, as it was the night when Shukaku was at his strongest. He was able to fend off the demon and keep control of his mind these days but it still promised to be a long night.

After breakfast they left the Leaky Cauldron, Gaara carrying his trunk and other school supplies. They took a taxi to King's Cross Station. The station was packed as always and Gaara even noticed some of the more obvious wizards walking around, trying to get on the train earlier so they could get a seat. He really saw no reason not to get there earlier so there was no chance of missing the train, but he had always had trouble understanding civilians.

They walked to one of the barriers, dividing the platforms nine and ten. Lupin bent down and whispered into Gaara's ear, to avoid someone overhearing, "Follow me, and walk fast." As soon as he had finished speaking he had walked briskly towards the barrier and without even blinking he walked straight through it. No matter how much magic he saw, Gaara still wasn't used to it. Ninjutsu seemed so much more sensical. Gaara also didn't flinch as he passed through the barrier, through the proverbial Looking-Glass, and onto the hidden platform 9¾.

They secured an empty compartment on the train and sat opposite each other, next to the windows. Soon after sitting down Remus had fallen asleep, and Gaara wasn't far away. He tried to stay awake by watching the influx of students walking by his window but soon he too pulled a blanket out of his trunk and over himself and went to the peaceful realm of dreams.

Unbeknownst to him or Professor Lupin, about half an hour after he started to slumber, three third year students entered into their compartment and sat down. They conversed quietly for a few hours under the onslaught of the heavy winds and rain until the train came to an abrupt halt. The trio looked out of the window to see only the darkness and the rain and the frost slowly covering their window.

Ghostly shadows drifted in the corridors of the train and one of them stopped by one of the compartment doors, sensing the delectable soul that lay within. It unlocked the door and reached around to grab it, sliding it out of the way. No matter what orders the dementor of Azkaban had been given, the feast within the compartment would be worth it. It floated into the cabin and reached out its hand towards, not Harry Potter, but the sleeping Sabaku no Gaara. It reached forwards and just as its hand grazed the light covering the blanket provided…

-OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO-

A/N: There you are: Chapter One. I won't promise to update often or even to finish the story as I have a short attention span, but I will try to write more and maybe finish it one day.


	2. Chapter 2: A New School

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction.

A/N: I was worried I wouldn't finish before September, no particular reason I just wanted to get it done. Thank you to all of the marvellous reviewers out there! I wont answer all of them because the only response I could give to them would be "You people are great!"

I want to say that if anyone finds a plot hole or anything to that effect I won't put the answer in the author's note if possible. I don't like it when people do that as it seems lazy. Instead I will try and insert it into the story. As such some of the raised questions in the reviews may not have been answered but truth be told this was more like a secondary introductory chapter with the rest of the main plot coming soon in the coming chapters.

I don't intend this to be a short series. I won't say how long I plan it to be but it will be a lengthy fiction.

Enjoy!

* * *

Just as the rotting black hand reached out to remove the covering of the human with the soul more tempting than a hundred Azkaban inmates, the blanket was thrown to the side of the compartment revealing a very awake and predictably angry Sabaku no Gaara, brandishing a kunai, the only weapon he had been able to smuggle with him to Diagon Alley. The dark metal blade glinted in the pale light left by sun trying desperately to shine through the thick and dark storm clouds overhead. When the evil creature recovered from its shock, if that was what that behaviour could be described as, it started forward again to take the massive soul within the container in front of it. As the monster approached Gaara, even he felt the slightest effects as he was made to relive even the most brutal of his killings when he was a child, but that did not stop him from throwing the kunai straight at where he assumed the creature's heart would have been. Unfortunately the dagger struck the folds of the black cloak as if it was empty and soon hit the ground making a quiet clanging sound, all but ignored as Gaara backed away from the creature, having nothing left to defend himself with, that wouldn't also harm the others in the compartment. He didn't even have his armour of sand on, because he had been reluctant to wear it when he travelled to Diagon Alley as it might have been too heavy to transport with him when apparating, he didn't quite know how the whole "apparating" technique worked.

One of the mangled bony hands moved to Gaara's cheek and, almost tenderly, embraced it as the dementor leaned in to kiss the boy. It opened its circular 'mouth' and started to suck the very soul out of the shinobi. All of a sudden Gaara could feel every ounce of his chakra being consumed right from his mouth. His very essence was being eaten. And that was when it got really interesting for the other passengers of the train compartment.

The chakra that had been absorbed by the creature was replaced so quickly by more and more chakra, which was getting progressively wilder and increasingly violent. It was as if the devil himself was fuelling the soul of the boy being kissed by the dementor. The shadowy figure started to spasm as it continued taking in the boy's soul until it was shaken off by its own wild movements. It looked, to all present, as if it had overloaded on the spirit of the red-headed mute and was having a fit. But it didn't end with the jerking, as the creature started to dissolve into pitch black sand from the bottom upwards. The entire dementor was soon nothing more than a pile of black dust on the train compartment's floor.

Gaara understood exactly what had happened as he had felt everything, and was unaffected in the slightest as he sat back down and pulled a small book out of his pocket and resumed reading from where he had left off. He had felt the creature absorb his chakra, the essence of his soul, until, in a bid to protect his host, Shukaku had released its own chakra. This caused the monster to absorb too much of the demon's soul and subsequently died returning the absorbed chakra to the original owner. As his chakra had been returned he was more or less unaffected by the ordeal and wanted nothing more than to relax for the rest of the train journey. Gaara wouldn't have been a worthwhile ninja if he hadn't been able to cope with something like that, in his opinion.

The rest of the cabin, on the other hand, were shocked, including Remus Lupin, who had woken up halfway through the encounter, to see Gaara being kissed by a dementor before the magical creature…disappeared. Before he could make any kind of comment or form a coherent question, the familiar presence was felt again by the doorway. An exact duplicate of the previous grim creature floated in, but this time it flew straight towards Harry Potter who fainted not long after it took an interest in him. At this, Lupin flew from his seat and shouted "_Expecto Patronum_!" And out of the end of his extended wand came a white mist that seemed to engulf the dementor. The grim-reaper look-alike flew out of the cabin, faster than a kyubi-host towards ramen, and wasn't seen again. A few minutes later the train's power seemed to spark back into life and the motionless train started again towards its destination.

The last couple of hours of the train journey were spent reviving the unconscious Potter, giving the red-headed mystery teen (Gaara) wary glances; and, although reluctantly for some, changing into the school's mandatory uniform. Gaara had only been persuaded to put them on when Lupin, who was on his way out of the compartment to check on the other students after the dementor inspection, said, in response to Gaara glaring at the uniform he had pulled out of his bag, that otherwise he would be expelled before the term officially started, creating a new school record, and stopping Gaara from researching any possible methods to get home. The uniform itself was a big change from his normal attire. The constricting school-code trousers were bad enough, they would make running more difficult, but the shirt, tie and jumper were ridiculous. They were impractical in every physical sense. He was just glad he was allowed to wear his own clothes on the weekend. He hadn't asked or anything, he couldn't, but he didn't care, he wouldn't wear the hated school uniform on his days off. The clothes only saving grace was that the robes would be an ideal place to hide weapons. Of course, he also strapped on his trusty leather band under his cloak which would soon carry his patented gourd again. He'd like to see someone try to take it from him then.

When the train finally came to a halt it was still pouring down outside and was probably going to start to get dark soon, though that was more or less irrelevant as the clouds covered any trace of the sun. Gaara was reluctant to exit the train with the rest of the student body as he looked at the water with disdain. He hated getting wet, and always had, for one reason or another. Eventually when all of the other people behind him grew impatient and started to hurl insults at him, he walked out into the wet train-station platform. All of the other students were walking towards the carriages, so the newcomer followed suit, ignoring all of the smaller children who were marching towards the lake. He walked with the crowd, scaring everyone out of his path with a stare colder than the icy rain falling all around them, until he reached the stage coaches.

As he walked up to the ancient looking black carriages, the first thing he noticed, other than they were ancient and black, were the creatures pulling them. They looked like a horse had mated with a bat. They were the size and roughly the same shape as one their equine counterparts but looked deathly bony and thin, as if their bones were only covered in a thin layer of black skin and a pair of folded bat wings. Their eyes were one of the most haunting facets of their appearance as they were completely and deathly white, pale, much like the Byakugan of Konoha. One of the strangest things about the odd creatures was that none of the other students around him seemed to pay them any mind as they boarded their carriages. Gaara also tried to pay as little heed as possible, as he walked up to the last carriage and stepped in.

Inside of the dry and warm carriage sat three people, all roughly his age and one of which he had met previously. The one he knew had identified himself as Draco Malfoy a few days prior. The carriages had two adjacent seats and could comfortably hold two or three people each. Malfoy was sat on one side and the two large boys were sat on the other. That was before Gaara stepped into the vehicle. As soon as his scarlet head popped through the doorway both of the goons snapped to attention and looked as if they were about to start some sort of a fight, before they were calmed by a wave of the platinum-blonde's hand. Said blonde, waved them to sit on his side of the carriage, much to Gaara's inner relief as he sat down opposite the trio. His relief came from the notion of having to sit between the two obese teens for what was sure to be a lengthy ride, if his luck was anything to go by or to have to sit facing them whilst sitting next to the snob, an almost equally undesirable thought. Of course, had they not moved, he would have moved them one way or another. His composure could only go so far.

"We met in the robe shop, as I'm sure you'll remember" Draco started the conversation with his normal confident and superior smirk. A nod from Gaara confirmed his hope as the aristocrat continued to talk about how he was sure Gaara already knew there were certain types of people that deserved respect without earning it and certain people that didn't, the certain people that did deserve the respect apparently deserved it just because of their lineage. It was times like these that he wished he could talk, because he would have verbally beaten the boy in front of him worse than the kunoichi Tsunade after finding her fellow Sannin Jiraiya peeping on her, though his would be strictly verbal rather than a physical beating. Instead he had to settle for nodding on occasion to the seemingly rehearsed speech and ignoring him as much as he could.

Eventually the time came when his input was required "Don't you think we should just cast out all of the mud-bloods from Hogwarts?" Asked Draco as he fixed Gaara with what some might have described as an intense stare. What was returned would universally be described as a _real_ intense stare. It scared all three of the non-shinobis senseless, and then amidst the intimidation, Gaara slowly but surely shook his head meaning a resounding 'No'.

For the rest of the ride, the three Slytherins attempted to fight back with weak glares but it was nothing compared to the tried-&-tested glare of the demon container of Suna.

When they arrived at the school itself, the three from the carriage scuttled off before Gaara walked out, and followed the others through the main entrance and on to the great hall. The dining hall was as grand as it had been the last time he was there, though his admiration of the dining room was diminished by the number of scrambling students running to their tables. It left Gaara wondering if he should just sit at the end of the table like last time, but quickly dismissed the thought as the area was abruptly flooded by children. Deciding to forgo the trouble of finding a seat he crossed his arms and moved to the back of the enormous room and leaned against the warm stone wall. He watched the continuing chaos for several minutes until they had all finally been seated and were engrossed in quieter conversations. Soon after the main pandemonium of returning to the school had ended for most of the students, a group made their way to the front from one of the four tables and arranged themselves to face the rest of the student body with one boy at the front supporting a sizeable toad that made Gaara think back to the largest toad he had ever seen, then again, that toad had also had a pipe in his mouth and was about the same size as the castle he was currently standing in. The group at the front then started to sing, as a choir, a lively song to the others in the hall. Gaara didn't particularly care for the song, but he did pay attention, to be polite to the singers and to drown out the mindless conversations wafting around the huge room that were even less appealing.

After the song had finished with a loud croak from the toad, the choir dispersed and walked to their seats on one of the four tables, revealing the teaching body, seated at their table behind where the choir had been standing. The conversations resumed soon after and Gaara couldn't help but overhear a few of them. One that he did overhear was Draco Malfoy mocking Harry Potter across the hall about fainting on the train. Gaara had a feeling that he could make the weasel-like boy faint within a minute of trying, and as he had been told when he was a child 'you never know until you try', but that was best saved for another day.

Around ten minutes later, the teachers finished their own conversations with their usual stern looks on their faces, except for Hagrid, the grounds keeper, who looked like he was having the best day of his life.

McGonagall walked out of the back entrance to the hall carrying an old small wooden stool and an even older looking witch's hat. She sat the hat down on the stool just in front of the teachers table and walked to the end of the hall and slipped out of the massive doors.

The conversations around the hall continued until she re-entered, this time followed by nearly a hundred scared looking first years, Gaara assumed they were first years because of the their size and skittish behaviour. Once they had been led to the front, Minerva broke off from the group and walked to the table there where she was handed a scroll listing all of the new student's names. She examined the scroll a little before waiting for something. That something was the hat to start singing. The song was short and riddled with clues for some of the students to be wary, any other hidden meanings were lost on Gaara as he didn't understand most of the references that the hat made. He was also startled to see a hat singing.

Singing hats…wizards.

When the song had ended, McGonagall had taken the scroll out once again and started to read through the list. She called out the first student, sorted obviously by the alphabetical order of their surnames, and the student walked to the rickety old stool and sat down on it whilst putting the sorting hat on their head.

The hat seemed to shift as it was on their head before one of the creases seemed to darken and not long after the crease opened again, wide like a mouth, and screamed "Ravenclaw!"

Each student standing at the front of the hall was told to move to the front and was then announced as a certain house. They would then move to the corresponding table which would usually cheer or clap, except Slytherin which merely gave a few polite claps and then interrogated the new student about their blood purity, status and other such details.

After the last was called and sorted, Dumbledore rose to standing and made a few announcements, like new rules, reminders of old ones like not to enter the 'forbidden forest' and the two new staff members: Rubeus Hagrid and Remus Lupin, both of which he'd met before and had seemed friendly enough, though it was a mystery to Gaara why Lupin had abstained from the start of term feast. After a few more announcements along those lines he came to one of his final points, "And finally I would like to add that there will be a new student joining our third years this year" He said as he surveyed the room for the red-haired 'monster'. "He will be sorted into one of the houses and will be treated as a normal student from this day forward" Dumbledore gestured to Minerva who had since ditched the scroll and shouted in her usual calling tone.

"Gaara!" The fact that the new student only had one name sparked a lot of interest in the student body, along with the entire idea of a new third year student, it was unheard of. The rumours spread instantly as the red-head walked to the front of the hall at a leisurely pace until he reached the stool at the front. Along the way many people were surprised by his looks. He had porcelain white skin, blood-red hair, a tattoo in a foreign language on his forehead, a large, thick leather sash across his torso, a metal plate tied around his neck with a black material bandanna and finally his intensely scary eyes, ringed with black, that put anyone else's glare to shame easily.

Immediately the 'Gaara fan club' was founded among a few disturbed girls of Hogwarts.

Gaara sat down on the stool like all those before him and placed the worn hat on his head. The hat sat on his head for a few moments in which Gaara wondered if this was all that was supposed to happen when finally the hat said in normal albeit loud speaking tone "I cannot see into this boy's mind…!"

The entirety of the great hall was taken aback by this admission by the hat that had seen into hundreds of wizards every year since the founding of the school many centuries ago.

Gaara wasn't overly surprised to hear this really, as he had spent so many years keeping a demon out of his mind that his mind might have been one of the strongest in the world at repelling intruders, along with the other Jinchurikis.

Some of the staff were calling for Snape to use _Legilimency_ on the new student. Gaara didn't know what 'Legilimency' was, but it sounded like some kind of spell, which Gaara wasn't willing to allow. Dumbledore mused over the idea before disregarding it and standing up, immediately silencing all of the chatter that had started. ", would you please allow the sorting hat to examine your mind. It is necessary, for you to be sorted into one of the four great houses of Hogwarts" He spoke loudly enough for everyone to clearly hear but not so loud as to be shouting at Gaara who couldn't have been sitting more than ten feet in front of him.

Gaara closed his eyes and nodded his head clearly signifying his cooperation.

"Have no fear, the sorting hat will not reveal any secrets it unearths within a mind it examines" The old man said, quieter than before so only the red-head could hear, as he sat back down on his throne eagerly anticipating the results. Truthfully Dumbledore would have relished the chance to examine the mysterious boy's mind, more so with this discovery that he was an adept at Occlumency, but if the sorting hat had been unable to penetrate the teen's mind then he didn't have much hope of succeeding. Whoever this boy was he was going to find out the old fashioned way, he had let Gaara into the school because he hoped he could protect Harry but from what his dutiful potions teacher had told him, this boy was no pawn. He would have to keep a close eye on him. It was a gamble but if he was as good a judge of character as he thought he was then he wouldn't have to worry about Gaara, and if he wasn't then he would have to deal with him. But that was a last resort.

Gaara concentrated hard to open his mind enough to allow the probing headgear to access his mind without inadvertently giving Shukaku an invitation to slaughter the countless children and adults around him. Even without sand, the one tailed demon could probably kill most of the fledgling wizards in the vast room.

"_So, you've allowed me access into your mind" _Gaara heard the echoing voice in his head.

Simply to test out his inner voice he said "_Hurry, I do not enjoy having others in my mind"_ Gaara was almost happy to hear his own voice, even if it was just in his own head.

"_Patience, first I need to look through your entire mind. See who you truly are" _The hat said as it probed deeper. Before he could stop its progress, Gaara felt it contact the other occupant. _"Hmm? What's thi-?" _

The entire of the great hall heard and saw the sorting hat literally scream in what looked like pure agony, unheard of for a hat. The hat, sat on Gaara's head, continued screaming whilst Professor McGonagall rushed over to remove it. As soon as the sorting hat had been taken off of the blood-red spikes it whispered, almost inaudibly, "Slytherin…" The transfiguration teacher, who had been carrying the hat away from the boy, heard the word and although not surprised she was a little hesitant to declare this sorting. The boy obviously had many 'demons', figuratively speaking, in his mind and sending him to the house known for their cruelty and hatred didn't seem sensible. But she was duty bound to report the tormented hat's decision despite her opinion and subsequent reluctance.

She sat the hat down in the darkened trophy room to rest before she re-emerged, walked to the front and said, in her loudest voice "The sorting hat has chosen Slytherin!"

Unlike in all of the previous selections for the snake-house, this one elicited a roaring cheer as Gaara stood up, slightly shakily some might have noticed, and made his way to the clapping table of snobs. He was thanking the gods that he had been able to force Shukaku back into his cage after the intruder had been forcibly removed. He could scarcely imagine what the hat had seen when it had tried to enter the demons mind, but he imagined that it would be quite a few months before it was back to normal.

As the sand-tanuki host took his seat on one the benches of the Slytherin table, he heard Dumbledore announce one or two more things to ease the tension that had built in the previous five minutes, which wasn't overly effective as he announced the dementors presence for the foreseeable future and for the students to take caution due to the escaped mass murderer Sirius Black, before he signalled for everyone to start the feast that appeared when the headmaster had clapped his hands.

As Dumbledore had been announcing, he was inwardly cursing himself for not foreseeing this turn of events. The boy was undeniably dangerous if left to his own devices and he had been pushed into the blue-blooded Slytherins domain. The only thing left to see now was the boy's magical potential. If things did get out of hand he would have to use the elder-wand to eliminate the threat no matter how much he didn't want to hurt a child, but the prophecy came first if Harry was to save the wizarding and the muggle world from Tom.

Gaara had tried to sit down near people of his own age group to spare himself the endless and idiotic questions of the younger years and the matured snobbery of the older years. He hoped he had found a bearable medium. He had judged the ages simply by the weasel-like platinum blonde boy he had met before. It pained him to think he would have to stay in the same dorm as the insufferable boy but he was the only one he knew and that knew that he couldn't talk. He didn't want to have to make pulling down his forehead protector to show the scar on his throat his new greeting.

"How did you do that to the old hat?" One asked.

"What's your second name?" Came quickly from another.

"Did you hex the sorting hat?"

"Did you see the look on that old trollops face, when you made the mangy old hat scream?"

"Why are you transferring in?"

"Who are you?"

All of these and countless other questions, most of which weren't as valid, flooded in as everyone started to eat. Another popular question was regarding his blood purity. Of course, Gaara paid them neither heed nor attention, as he started to eat the delectable food before him. Some of the table seemed to be getting annoyed at being ignored and Gaara was readying himself for a table-silencing glare. Fortunately he was saved the trouble of silencing the table when the boy whom he previously thought to be of no use, Draco Malfoy, spoke up on his behalf.

"Shut it!" He had all but shouted, just managing to avoid the teacher's ears "Stop making such an irritating noise. He can't speak, you simpletons" After that a few insincere apologies were sent in both their directions the table sat there in relative silence to finish the good food, the only noise on the table coming from the few whispered conversations originating from the younger years and the braver older years. No one wanted to provoke Draco Malfoy, especially not if he was in league the scary new red-headed serial killer look-alike.

The rest of the feast progressed, including a second course and desert, after which Gaara was happy enough to go to bed with a full stomach and enjoy one of the greatest luxuries, sleep. He was also going to be reunited with his precious sand, meaning he wouldn't feel as helpless as he did without it.

One of the older students lead the way down to the lower levels of the school after the feast had ended and Dumbledore had sent them to bed. They arrived at the entrance to the common room where the prefect told them the new password for the year "Noble Salazar"

Gaara could foresee the need to verbally speak the password to his temporary home as a potential problem. Then again, he was only at Hogwarts to find a way home and for shelter so a minor inconvenience was acceptable in the long run.

The insides of the underground dormitory were as grand as everything else he remembered about the ancient school. The rich black leather sofas, the eerie collections of human skulls, the big blazing fire set into the black marble fireplace, everything about the place screamed class and dignity, all of which Gaara could live with. It seemed he could get used to living in the Slytherin house for the coming school year.

Being as tired as he was, Gaara walked straight back to the bedroom he had stayed in before. When he arrived the door was closed and on the door it read, on the two name plaques, 'Draco Malfoy' and 'Gaara'. Gaara was going to have to tell them his full name at some point, but not right at that point as he wanted to go to bed.

Gaara was about to open the door to his room when he heard an unwelcome voice from down the hall. "Oy! Where do you think you're goin'?" Gaara saw it was one of the henchmen that that Draco boy always kept with him. Not wanting to get into a meaningless fight, Gaara simply pointed at the door, and more specifically at his name on the door. Obviously the boy wasn't happy with the nonverbal answer as he called over the other lackey and they both advanced on him. When the two tall boys were upon him, Gaara hoped Draco might intervene on their behalf. No sign of him.

"What do you think you're doin'?" The other, slightly shorter slurred, as he tried to intimidate the new student. "Just 'cus Draco thinks you're okay, doesn't mean you get to stay in _our_ room" He continued. It was only after the next sentence that things escalated "-you freak" It wasn't much of an insult but it was enough. In the last few months Gaara had become a fairly well balanced person, to the point that he wouldn't kill someone for such a stupid insult, but unfortunately for the two 'bullies', this was a special occasion. It was the first full moon Gaara had experienced in this world that night, and, although the main effects were prevented by the clouds covering the moon, Shukaku was still banging on his bars to get free or for blood to be spilt and the memory of his lonely and hated childhood that had been brought to his attention by the all too familiar taunt was only aiding in the one tailed demons desire for carnage. For some unknown reason, the effects of the moon seemed to be so much stronger in this world, though Gaara didn't stop to think about the potency of the moon and the potential future implications as he was all too soon on a mindless rampage.

The red-head jumped into the air between Crabbe & Goyle and spun around to deal a harsh kick to the side of each of their faces causing them to spin around whilst falling to the ground, bleeding from the gashes on the sides of their heads. Gaara wasted no time as he landed in a crouch before diving onto the first boy and started to beat his face repeatedly, using his other hand to bring the podgy face back to where he wanted it so he could continue to bludgeon the boy with his trained fist. When the boy's sobbing had ceased and he had lost consciousness Gaara jumped to his feet and walked over to the other boy who had started to crawl away with a look of absolute terror on his face. He didn't get more than ten feet down the lavishly decorated, empty, hallway as he was blown from his hands and knees and onto his side by the foot that connected with his gut. Gaara picked up the single conscious boy by the collar of his shirt and jumper and flung him back to the other. He then leapt over to them and started to kick and punch the other's face and gut. He continued until both had been knocked out and were bleeding profusely. The look on the boys faces were enough to show what had happened, the look of sheer agony and terror. The agony was self explanatory but the terror, the terror was from Gaara's face. Throughout the entire brutal attack, the insanely wide smile had never left his face.

After he was done, Gaara had slumped against the wall and seemed to wake from a daze which he hadn't even noticed going into. Though, it wasn't really a daze as he could remember every detail of what had happened, everything he had done. Gaara pulled himself to his feet and walked back to his door before entering. The place was still empty except for their belongings and his precious gourd. He suddenly felt glad he hadn't had it on him at the time otherwise he would have undoubtedly killed those two kids.

It was only now, as he lay on the bed, that he was able to contemplate his situation. It worried him that he had lost control like that and accepted Shukaku's anger. But that wasn't it. He hadn't just accepted the beast's anger; he had taken in parts of its chakra and parts of the beast itself. He didn't know what he could do, when it was the full moon he might revert to his old ways of killing indiscriminately. He had to think of something to do to keep the monster away from others. Somewhere where others wouldn't go. Somewhere where he could be sure he wouldn't be found by any students. But he didn't know the castle that well yet. And he only had a month to find somewhere before the next full moon.

Luckily he didn't seem to be feeling any more of the effects for now. They seemed to come and go, but he had little doubt that when they moon was fully exposed and not hidden by the clouds, he would be a vicious killing machine in the coming months unless he escaped from this world he had been sent to.

Gaara got changed and got into the comfortable bed he had slept in just under a week ago and went to sleep.

Gaara's dreams were plagued by demons of his past and, ironically, a demon of his present. He felt glad he when he was awoken by Draco Malfoy walked into the room with a ghostly pale face. He spotted Gaara's open eyes and as soon as he sat down on the bed opposite to Gaara he started to talk about how someone had attacked some people called 'Crabbe' and 'Goyle', which Gaara realised were probably the names of the boy's he had beaten half to death not more than an hour before. After a few more minutes of the one sided conversation Draco too got ready for bed and turned off the magical lights.

Gaara was just happy he didn't have to use his sand to explain why he was in that room. It seemed that the ring leader had a bit more sense than the goons. Or at least enough sense to check the door for his name.

As he drifted off again, Gaara couldn't help but laugh silently at the irony of what Draco had told him regarding the attack earlier. The teachers had declared that the two brutes had had a fight and knocked each other out. Gaara was just hoping that they wouldn't rumble him when they awoke, otherwise he would have a difficult time explaining what happened without revealing everything. He was already an oddity even in this bizarre school, he didn't need the extra attention that declaring a demon lived inside him would bring.

Again his dreams were haunted by evils better left unexplained until he woke in the middle of the night. This time there was nothing to cause this awakening other than the horrors of his mind and the sudden blood lust that seemed insatiable at that point. He had woken with the same grin on his face that he had sported earlier that night, except this time the only thing he could direct his fury at was the sleeping teen in the next bed. He reached out one hand to uncork his weapon but as his finger tips grazed the dry material he suddenly came to his senses and withdrew his hand.

Once again he tried to go to sleep but wasn't able to, for fear of killing the sleeping boy in the other bed whilst unconscious. He decided to stay awake all night and play with his sand, it had been a while since he had been able to and he needed a little practice otherwise he might have gotten rusty.

Whilst he toyed with the form of the almost liquid sand he started to think about his family and friends back in the elemental nations. He hadn't given them much thought whilst he was stuck in that foreign world, it was too painful. But now that he did, he wondered what was happening, if they were looking for him, if they were okay.

Gaara continued his thoughts long into the night whilst he practiced his control in more ways than one.

* * *

The next morning found Sabaku no Gaara still sitting on his bed playing with a small measure of his sand. The only sign of the rising sun came through the submerged windows at the side of the room showing the dark murky water that was beginning to light up into a shade of green that seemed to fit the room precisely.

Over the night Gaara had almost gone on a killing spree twice more but had been able to fight off the urge. He had tried to think of places he had seen that could hold him, even without his sand, but all of the doors looked too flimsy and he could easily find his way to people within the school.

It wasn't much longer, after the sun had risen, that Gaara was disturbed from his peaceful thoughts by "How are you doing that?" Draco exclaimed excitedly, having seemingly woken a few seconds prior and had watched the new redhead manipulating his sand without the use of his wand. Draco pondered on whether this could be the reason the mysterious new boy had been admitted to the school three years into the usual line of education and had been taken to buy supplies with the new defence against the dark arts teacher. He obviously had no relation to the scruffy man, by the looks of them and the way they held themselves. Gaara's demeanour was not unlike his own, in the sense that both of them held a large air of confidence and superiority and something else he couldn't quite place yet.

Gaara was startled when he was interrupted by the, now awake, blonde boy who had wide eyes like a child looking at an item of extreme interest. Gaara, with a flick of his hand, sent the sand back into the gourd and re-corked it before turning to the intrigued roommate. Slowly he nodded.

Draco was baffled. A nod wasn't what he had had in mind; surely the boy could communicate in some manner. But he didn't want to press the matter, the last thing he needed was an enemy for a roommate. Also, Gaara was a great deal scarier than his normal company despite his size and handicap so he didn't want to anger him this early on.

Gaara decided now was as good a time as any to get out of bed. For once he was glad that he was practically immune to sleep deprivation as he walked down to the showers and washed off the grime from the day before, along with the blood on his hands that he had picked up before bed, fortunately no one had noticed the red stains. He then re-entered the room to find Draco had also left, presumably to either shower like him or to check up on his henchmen, but he was almost certain it wasn't the latter; Draco didn't seem like that kind of person.

By the time the towelling-off-Draco returned, Gaara was ready for the day, he just needed to strap his sand to his back and he'd be ready for anything, unless it involved running, because whilst wearing the school uniform he doubted he could run much faster than the average person whilst wearing it.

After they were both ready, Draco said he'd take Gaara to the great hall for breakfast, where they would also get their timetables for the following year. True to his word Draco led his roommate to the great hall to eat. Draco, as he walked in front of the mysterious teen, noticed that Gaara had brought his big sand…thing with him.

When they arrived, they earned more strange looks than Gaara had the night before as he walked in, carrying his gourd and looking even angrier than before, if that was possible. The visible unintentional and undirected malice had been caused by the mostly sleepless night Gaara had had to endure the previous night. He could survive and function without sleep but his mood rapidly worsened when he went without sleep.

They sat in the same seats as the night before, or close, it was a bench so it wasn't really exact. The biggest difference was this time Draco sat on the other side, with Gaara, as he'd seemingly taken a shine to him, as well as Carbbe & Goyle still being in the infirmary, and the wizarding nobility couldn't very well sit on his own as far as Draco was concerned.

They ate with a relative silence between them, until one Harry Potter entered the great hall. Draco took time out of his eating to call a few insults over to the Gryffindor table regarding the famous teen's fainting spell on the train the previous day. Gaara tried to ignore the childish behaviour but was soon roped in when Draco had turned back around and started to jabber about how the 'idiot' was also a wimp and such. He asked for the newcomer's opinion and being the kind and meek boy Gaara was…he uncorked his gourd allowing the sand to flow out freely. A ball of sand the size of a football was formed before the cork was replaced. By this point he had most of the people in the great hall staring at him or the ball of sand a few feet above him. Draco was among the many students staring wide eyed at the orb.

The sand morphed into words above the red-haired boy with his arms crossed and a prominent scowl set upon his face 'Did you face the dementors last night?'

As the mentioned boy read the message in the air he couldn't help but blush slightly as the entire great hall seemed to expect his answer. "Well…no, but… never mind" After that he turned back to his food and Gaara did the same, leaving the sand to form into a ball once again and stay in the air above him, floating with a slight rotation to it.

Gaara wasn't really one for humiliating people but he had had a rough night and when he saw someone being such an antagonistic hypocrite he wasn't in the mood to suffer their idiocy. There was also something else that made Gaara uneasy about the boy he was rooming with, nothing supernatural but something equally disturbing and almost familiar that made him wary, though, he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

Not long after they had finished the spectacle, which had still rendered the hall motionless and silent, which Gaara seemed to have a knack for, McGonagall approached Gaara brandishing a frown almost as deep set as his own. ", it is against school rules to use magical artefacts outside of assigned lessons. Being new is not an excuse!" The stern deputy-headmistress scolded in her strong Scottish accent. "Please remove this…" she didn't quite know how to describe the gourd on Gaara's back as he sat there with his arms crossed and a decidedly defiant look about him "-artefact" she settled for. "and give it to me now" Her order was all but ignored as Gaara didn't do anything.

Minerva was about to reprimand the boy but he did move. He released one of his arms from their comfortable folded position in front of his chest and pointed his finger upwards in a lazy and uncaring manner. McGonagall looked up carefully, remembering a similar incident with the Weasley twins several years prior with floating water bombs, and not to mention the Marauders mischief, that sent chills down her spine. Above her wasn't a prank of any kind but instead a message written in sand-letters saying 'I won't give you my sand' the letters reformed after the first part 'and it is not an artefact' once again the sand broke into the mist like state before reforming back into discernable letters and words 'I move this sand with my own power'

The senior staff member was shocked by this; to use this high level of control was almost unheard of and to be done by a new student with no training and without the use of a wand. It was terrifying for the Hogwarts professor. The same was true for all of the students of Hogwarts who had seen the messages in the air. McGonagall walked off soon after looking to be in an even worse mood than before. She was going to have to talk to Albus about the boy's presence in the school after all of her classes were done. Gaara didn't even get to turn around to quietly finish his breakfast because his head of house, Severus Snape, came walking down the hall with a scowl that seemed to be apparent on all of the teacher's faces that morning, well, except Hagrid who still looked cheerful.

Snape deposited the pile of paper he had been carrying into the lap of one of the seventh years, walking back to his seat not long after. The seventh year didn't look at all pleased to have been chosen for the prestigious job of handing out the student timetables during, what was supposed to be, his breakfast. Gaara noticed, as he finished off his toast and the juice he had been given, that professor Lupin wasn't eating with the rest of the staff once again. He assumed the man was preparing for the lessons he would be teaching on his first day of work. 'Defending against dark arts' or something akin to that, Gaara checked his new timetable but he wasn't scheduled for that lesson that day, not until later in the week. The first wizarding lesson he would receive was Divination and it seemed to be with another house, Gryffindor, as were all of his lessons, not specifically Gryffindor but always with at least one other house.

Before they left the great hall, Gaara recalled his sand back into his gourd and re-corked it seeing no need to waste chakra keeping it suspended. Fortunately it seemed as if Draco had quickly gotten over his embarrassment at his hands earlier as they both left together.

Once they had left the great hall, Gaara and Draco walked back down to their dormitory, Gaara leaving Draco to speak the password to enter, and into their room to retrieve their books for the first few lessons of the day. By the time they had walked from the bowels of the school to the stone steps leading up to the North Tower, one of them was sweating profusely and gasping for breath, and it wasn't the one with the gourd of sand on his back.

As Gaara was led up the ancient stone spiral staircase to the North Tower for divination, he noticed the constant hostility between both Slytherin and Gryffindor. It seemed childish to him, but so did the hostility between some of the elemental nations. Draco seemed fairly restrained compared to the night before when he had openly and proudly taken any chance he could to snipe at Potter and the other Gryffindors. Gaara guessed it was because of absence of the goons Draco had kept with him before. Gaara had to admit he wasn't as annoying when the others weren't around.

When Gaara passed through the old doorway into the divination classroom at the top of the stairs, the first thing the tanuki-host noticed upon entering was the overpowering stench of incense and fragrances that made him want to deposit his breakfast over the pillowed floor. He saw that most of the others entering before and after him were suffering a similar reaction to the smell, although maybe not as severely. Gaara literally stumbled to one of the numerous cushions littered around the room with almost no grace as he fell. There didn't seem to be any chairs in the room so Gaara just tried to concentrate on breathing through his mouth instead of his nose as he hoisted himself into a more comfortable sitting position on the soft royal-purple pillow. Draco sat between him and the rest of the Slytherins so he could get a conversation from the others and cultivate a friendship between Gaara and him, who he decided was worth his time if only for the power the boy possessed, which seemed all the more potent from the display that morning.

Gaara was more or less of the same opinion, even as antisocial as he was, he did try, on occasion to create bonds of friendship with people, much to the delight of his doting sister and mocking brother. He decided at that point that he would try and at least attempt to become more…social in this world, if only for the sake of becoming a better person for when he got back home. Unable to continue his current thoughts, Gaara was dragged back to the harsh, smelly, reality that was first period divination.

Not long after the poor red-head had sat down, a tweedy little woman who looked jitterier than a blonde-Jinchuriki being followed by a ghost, entered. The curly haired woman walked into the room at a quick pace, only taking time to look at her new students one by one in rapid succession. Gaara was a little disturbed by the way the woman gasped and started to harass one of the overweight Gryffindors about their dead grandmother, or something to that effect. Gaara couldn't concentrate with all of the perfumes in the air. After she had seemingly read the boy's, Neville's, future, she stopped scrutinizing the rest of the students. Instead she went to the front of the circular room and introduced her subject as well as gave a speech on how it was all true and definitely not fake. Gaara wasn't exactly convinced about that.

Trelawney went into the back room whilst the students, who could talk, talked about how much of a crackpot she was; this even extended to the usually quite mild mannered Gryffindors who would normally stick up for such people from what Gaara had seen and heard. Even if Gaara could have, he wouldn't have joined the conversation though; he wasn't really one for passive verbal aggression. Every once in a while Malfoy would turn to Gaara for his opinion, usually expecting a positive expression from the boy, only for Gaara to ignore him or to disagree with him. He wasn't trying to annoy the platinum blonde; he just didn't want to mislead anyone into thinking that he cared about what the other thought on the subject.

When the woman re-entered she was carrying a tray with around twenty or so tea cups and a pot of boiling water, Gaara lightened up at this. He could really use some tea to clear his nose of the smell that permeated the room, the stench that he just couldn't get over.

All of the students crowded around a few desks leaving two or three to each short table and each person got a cup with tea leaves in and were asked to get out their books and turn to page five: 'Reading Tea-Leaves'.

Sybil Trelawney then went around the room depositing hot water into the cups and asking the students to drink the tea. Some looked almost horrified to have to drink tea, but Gaara just leisurely drank his whilst flipping through his copy of the required text book. Gaara was fairly fortunate that the courses he was taking weren't too knowledge based as he hadn't been there in the previous years to study them. The only things he had to worry about was potions which was apparently the only subject that relied on any science, that and that he hadn't even used his wand yet but he was hoping he would get the hang of it sooner rather than later.

Gaara was finding the tea refreshing, having come from a culture where it was perfectly normal for a boy his age to drink tea. He had quite a taste for the hot beverage, which was more than could be said for most of the other students who had probably only ever drunk fruit juice, water and maybe the occasional hot chocolate.

After everyone had finished their tea they were instructed to read through their textbooks and match the symbols in them to the shapes the tea leaves in the bottom of their cups had taken. Needless to say, Gaara wasn't impressed. He had been handed Draco's cup not long after the orders were given and could only see a vague, blobby ambiguous shape in the tea. But Gaara didn't want to start an unnecessary problem with his teacher on his first lesson on his first day, so he looked through his book again, and picked the most unimportant and unconcerning fortune he could find. It was essentially 'work hard and the future could be promising', no actual meaning but would get the teacher off his back. The subject itself was ludicrous in the first place, in the red-head's opinion, and from what he could hear around the room, many of the others in the class agreed with him. Draco seemingly did the same as he flipped through the book and stopped on a random page and read out the fortune on it. Gaara actually smiled a little at the others antics. He was sure now, that Draco Malfoy wasn't as annoying without the other idiot Slytherins around him. He'd even managed to go the majority of the lesson without trying to antagonize Harry Potter at all, although he had done none of the assigned work it seemed to be a wide spread practice in this class from the continuous quiet conversations circulating around the tower.

The talking immediately ceased when a clatter resounded throughout the tower, followed by a loud gasp, emanating from Professor Trelawney who was currently standing above Harry Potter's table and examining one of the tea cups. Gaara was at the other side of the room so he wasn't too sure whose fortune was being read but his suspicions were proven to be correct when she turned to the-boy-who-lived and started ranting about "the grim!"

Along with a few others in the class, who weren't too shocked by the unfolding scene, Gaara flipped through the text book and came upon the sign of a 'grim', the shape of a silhouetted dog that foretold a very unfortunate and suitably titled grim future. The silence that had engulfed the room was almost stifling for the majority of the students, but Gaara, on the other hand, was enjoying the awkward peace that reigned as it was one of the few times since he had arrived in the school that he had been able to collect his thoughts without the noisy distractions around him.

After the silence had ended Trelawney spent a few moments trying, in vain, to console the unnerved Potter, though it seemed to all listening like a token gesture towards a dying person, before moving on with a sad look upon her face. She roamed around the room, not really stopping to look at anyone else's tea cups; this was until she came upon a certain Slytherin pair's table. She might have looked depressed before and after her previous reading but now her face looked completely devoid of any emotion. She looked to be on autopilot, approaching Gaara and Draco, who were wearily watching the tweedy looking woman as she walked towards them. The entire class had gone silent, all waiting and watching for the next dramatic fortune telling. The only noise that could be heard was the heavy almost unnatural wheezing of the woman who was seeming less like a fake after each prediction.

"What?" Draco demanded an explanation for the strange behaviour but he wasn't even acknowledged as Professor Trelawney continued to focus her seemingly large eyes on the red-headed mute.

She paused when she was right before the tiny table and gasped in another heavy breath after which she spoke in a tone very much unlike her usual one_ "He, who is part of ten, killer of a hundred killers, will destroy the foundation, and overwhelm death itself!" _The surprised room of students were as motionless and silent as the dead,as they tried to process the cryptic message of the future from the teacher they had previously dismissed as a fraud. The gaunt looking woman continued in her supernatural tone soon after _"The seven bonded will die, for the final moments will reveal the darkness hidden" _This time she took a larger breath, the climactic moment approaching_ "-unless evil overcomes evil and good prevails… He will return!" _

Of all of the students, Gaara was the most shocked. When he came back to his senses, with a double blink of his pale green eyes, he put on his typical stoic expression and watched as others started to come out of the startled state the seemingly genuine reading had left them in.

Not long after the second dramatic reading, the class was over and the students were filing out of the room looking slightly ill, much like Gaara, though, they were just sick of the smell whereas the shinobi was troubled by their teacher's concurrent predictions….and the smell. In all honesty, Gaara didn't particularly care about the first of the omens, the aptly named 'grim', mostly because he didn't particularly care about the Potter boy and that particular fortune had seemed to pale in comparison with the second. The second, aimed at him, as far as he could tell, seemed about as genuine as one could hope for a reading of the future. The entire class had been noticeably shaken by the predictions by the time they exited the classroom, though most of them were more startled by the depressing prediction directed at the hero/celebrity Harry Potter. In Gaara's opinion the boy-who-lived seemed a little too naive and nosy for his own good, but he had decided to bear with the celebrity teenager as he was Sirius's godson.

So far, Harry had tried to stay out of the way of the small, scary looking, mysterious transfer student as much as possible. And the fact that he had been sorted, if that was the correct term for what had happened the night before, into Slytherin, didn't sit right with him. But, the-boy-who-lived had to admit he didn't seem overly evil or snobby, unlike most other Slytherins, like Draco Malfoy, perfect example, who seemed to have taken a liking to the mute addition to the year group. Harry just hoped that Draco didn't turn him into an ass. Then again, the prophecy made in his previous lesson unsettled him as much as it unsettled the rest of the class. Not only had his death been predicted in the tea leaves but also the second prediction of the future that seemed even darker than his own. Harry went with the crowd and gave Gaara a wide birth as he went to his second lesson, with McGonagall.

Gaara was walking on his own down to his second subject of the day, Potions. He had been lucky enough to have the locations of the classes for that day included on his timetable along with the names of the teachers instructing the subjects as well. He was about half way down to the dungeon; fortunately he already knew the location of the damp underbelly of the school, when Draco caught up to him after having walked with a group of his peers with whom he had been chatting. Draco seemed almost calm after the eventful lesson as he started another one-sided conversation with Gaara, being cautious not to mention the surely sore subjects of blood purity or the prophecy that had been spoken not more than ten minutes before.

As they had made their way down to the lower levels, Gaara had been subjected to many not-so-subtle whispers and points along with the good-ol'-stares. They were fascinated, the students, by the new transfer who had used sand, of all things, to communicate that very morning along with his suspect appearance and the strange circumstances surrounding his transfer along with the rumours of the prophecy that were already beginning to circulate; which, combined, made him one of the four most discussed topics in the school, though he was definitely the top topic. Coming in at number two was the elusive escaped murderer Sirius Black, in at number three were the dementors of Azkaban who were patrolling the grounds of Hogwarts, and at number four was the two Slytherins in the hospital wing.

Back to Gaara, Draco and the Slytherins, along with half a class of Hufflepuffs in a dank dark potions room, awaiting the arrival of Professor Severus Snape, potions master of Hogwarts and detestable excuse for a human being in most of the students opinions.

He had swept into the room with a scowl set deeply upon his face, which seemed to deepen more so when he spotted the crimson-haired monster teen whom he had already taken a drastic disliking to.

"Well, well. If it isn't the silent wonder" He mocked as he rounded on the desk Gaara was sat at. The teenage shinobi wasn't too bothered by the mockery of the staff member as his mood was already starting to lift. The fact that there were stools in this classroom instead of chairs meant he could continue to wear his trusty gourd on his back where it belonged. "Should we expect any other miracles today, or can we get on with the lesson?" He asked, and by the length of the pause following his inquiry, Gaara assumed that he was expected to answer, which was another insult all by itself due to his obvious inability to do so.

Gaara settled for glaring at the man while waiting patiently. Snape smirked as he strutted to the front of the room thinking to himself that he'd won the encounter. Even a few of the Slytherins had had the gall to snicker at the bullying and had thrown nasty and snide looks towards Gaara who, after Severus had finished making his way to his desk at the front, had turned his own attention to removing the heavy gourd on his back after he had been told by the only adult in the room that every student was to walk to the front of the cluttered and dank room and collect the ingredients he was writing on the board, thus necessitating the removal of the bulky object for the time being.

The red-head noticed with a smirk that after he had walked to the cabinet at the front of the room, people who were walking past his desk were avoiding his sand like it was going to jump up and bite them. He could have made it do that, but the teacher already seemed to have a great measure of loathing for him for whatever reason and using the already-frowned-upon-sand to injure one of the students seemed foolhardy despite however much enjoyment he might have taken from doing so.

After he had picked up the items listed on the blackboard, which he couldn't recognize from name alone so he simply selected the same things as everyone else, he made his way back through the students who, from the looks on their faces, seemed only slightly afraid to be near him, and back to his seat where he deposited his armload of potions equipment and ingredients. Draco appeared soon after with his own equipment.

The tanuki-host watched as Snape started to write the baffling instructions onto the board leaving most of the class looking almost as befuddled as him. So, in an effort to avoid failing he attempted to copy what his classmate was doing.

Attempted being the operative word.

Draco Malfoy wasn't particularly gifted in potions, despite what his grades and teacher's compliments might lead one to believe. But no matter how un-talented Draco may have been at brewing potions, Sabaku no Gaara was ten times worse, at least. It was probably the same reason he was also unable to cook even the most basic of recipes. Gaara had no brewing or cooking ability which probably could have explained why he never killed his sister over the years. She may have been insufferable but she kept him fed.

It didn't escape Professor Snape's attention that Gaara was messing-up his potion, obviously having no talent nor previous experience in the subject, and so he decided to do the kind thing… and ridicule the poor boy much like Mr Longbottom from Gryffindor.

He swept over to Gaara and Draco's desk to find that whilst the potion was meant to be a thick bubbling pink substance, was, in the red-haired boy's case, a gooey green colour that occasionally released a noxious gas that made him gag. The only consolation about such a revolting potion being created was that his detested student, creator of said potion, seemed to be having a worse time with the smell than he thought strictly necessary, then again, he had worked with some of the worst smelling substances known to wizard so he might have lost some sensitivity in his nose.

He looked to his favoured student's cauldron to find a murky purple liquid in the cauldron that seemed to be around the same consistency as one of the perfected potions like his own or, he dreaded to say, Granger's.

Severus settled for mocking the child he hated, on par with his loathing for Potter, by making subtle verbal jabs "You incompetent… did you mix some of your oh-so precious sand in or are you just so inept that following a simple potions recipe to the letter is beyond what your strange little mind can follow?"

…About as subtle as a drunken punch from Konoha's green beast.

"Well, why don't you answer? Oh right, you can't. I don't understand why a little freak like you was admitted into this great school" Snape continued his tirade, long since forgetting the reason he had started. He had silenced the entire class, which for the third time that day had had to stop what they were doing and focus their attention on the angry looking red-head who seemed to be getting more and more furious from the looks of his scowl and invisible eyebrows arching and shadowing his murderous eyes.

Gaara was so very close to performing a desert burial on this greasy haired man but was stopped when his attention was drawn to a small explosion that covered half of the room in the green substance he had concocted. The red-head was one of the few lucky enough to be spared from being covered by the nasty looking liquid. Though, luck might have entailed that he didn't allow his sand to spring up and protect him and the platinum blonde sitting behind the sand at the time. It might have been more accurate to say that Draco was lucky.

Snape, who couldn't fathom how the harmless ingredients he had listed on his, now green, blackboard, had created such a repulsive mess. Also listed among his regrets for that day, along with letting the mysterious student into his classroom, was his slow reaction, because his slow reaction was the reason why he was now covered in his student's potion and was practically screaming for everyone in the room to leave. He would have liked to do more, to cause a little misery but if he deducted house points it would be his house to suffer, which wasn't entirely ethical to spare his house's points where he would otherwise have decimated any other's chances of winning the house cup at the year's end, and if he gave Gaara a detention he would have to let that monster into his classroom again.

He was going to talk to Dumbledore that night and have that child removed and possibly imprisoned for the crime of being a nuisance and a monster, among other things.

Gaara and Draco, two of the few that weren't covered in the former's creation walked out of the potions room with smiles on each of their faces. The smile progressed as they walked until, as they reached the great hall, they were actually laughing with each other. Gaara's was a silent laugh but his face was enough to make Draco double his own roaring laughter.

They gained quite a lot attention as they entered the hall but it didn't faze the taller boy, quite as much as it did Gaara. The shorter had had quite an eventful day, even for him, and didn't relish the prospect of having to sit through another hour in which he would be stared at, questioned and in all likelihood, scorned. With this in mind he turned to Draco who was still sporting a grin and pointed in the opposite direction the great hall and when the platinum blonde inevitably questioned him he waved and walked away.

As he left he couldn't help but smile a little more as he relived the past lesson. He hadn't laughed like that in quite some time. Too long, in fact.

He walked straight out of the front entrance to the school and continued walking until he couldn't hear any voices. He then sat down, under the closest tree and tried to gather his thoughts. The day wasn't even half-way finished and he had already pretty much destroyed one potions laboratory, had an unsettling and ambiguous prophecy made to him and made a name for himself throughout the entire school. And he still had one lesson to go.

Caring for magical creatures didn't sound too difficult. They couldn't be that dangerous compared to some of the things he had met in the desert over the years.

'At least I don't need to use my wand yet' Gaara thought to himself as he removed his gourd from his back and set it beside the tree so he could lean back. 'I need to get some practice with this' Was his next thought as he pulled out the black stick and started to examine it. He knew he couldn't do it whenever he wanted because the use of magic was strictly monitored and he didn't want anymore hassle. He seemed to be getting enough of that on his own. He would need to wait for the night to try using it.

Gaara looked up at the sky and couldn't help but think of his own bright blue sky, remembering fondly a few months prior when he had actually been berated by Temari for staying out, under the burning sun, for a few days straight. She had had the best intentions when she lectured the predictably bemused looking Jinchuriki about wearing a hat or at least taking shelter every few hours. He had then had to convince her not to try and make him were one of Kankuro's spare hoods. She couldn't have made him but it would have been troublesome problem had he not promised her that he'd take care of himself.

Now that he was thinking of home, he started to think of his main mission whilst at Hogwarts. He hadn't really had a chance to look for a way home yet, but he had plenty of time for that. He didn't really expect the task to be simple as he had to search for an answer without any help whatsoever. He didn't want to tell anyone that he was from another world because, like telling them he had a demon sealed within him or that he used to be a serial killer, it would just cause problems for him and draw unnecessary attention. He might be kidnapped or arrested for being a monster or an alien or something like that so he decided he would rather just try and solve his problems on his own first.

Gaara was forced from his musing when he felt a presence that was unmistakable in its infinite evil, an aura that he hadn't felt since he was back in Suna. Worse than a hundred dementors, this feeling that was crawling up is spine could only have been one thing.

Fangirls.

The young red-head had had to deal with a fan-club before, the Sunagakure chapter. They, along with various assassins, had been the bane of his existence for the last few months, ever since he stopped killing people. And even then, he had heard rumours it had started before that.

The short teen looked around and saw what he dreaded; a group of around twenty girls were slowly making their way towards him. It was at this point he decided to make his exit and leave, quickly. When he stood up they started to walk towards him faster and more excitedly. The tanuki-teen brought his hands together, eliciting more squeels and questions from his fan club, and moved fingers into the tiger seal in front of his chest. Suddenly, he disappeared along with his gourd in a flurry of sand.

Gaara reappeared just inside of the main entrance where he could hear the loud screaming and squeeling that was more than likely to have caused at least a few cases of deafness in birds around the school.

Deciding that he wasn't willing to deal with any more fangirls he walked back to his room in the belly of the school to pick up his text book for his final lesson of the day, seeing as lunch was almost over.

He walked back through the school, deciding along the way that if he ever became Kazekage by some bizarre and unlikely miracle, he wouldn't change the castle at all. All of this walking would be exhausting for civilians.

He made his way outside, where it said his class was, on his timetable, to the edge of the so-called Forbidden Forrest, which he recalled being warned not to enter the night before by the headmaster. When he reached the area, he found rest of the class arriving, all holding their text books with the utmost care and each carried expressions of dread on their faces. Ever since Gaara had received the 'Monster Book of Monster' from the fearful and surprisingly injured sales assistant, he had been careful not to open it, as it didn't seem to like being touched if the growling and snarling were any indication.

When the majority of the class were present, excluding the stragglers, everyone seemed to be talking, always talking. Gaara had always enjoyed the tense silences that could be found in the perpetually sandy village he called home. One notable conversation was between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, each with their own lackeys for backup, though Draco had had to find temporary replacements apparently. Though, a discussion wouldn't have been the correct term, it was more along the lines of mockery, one-sided of course…

Once again Draco seemed to be mocking the trio of Gryffindors and like the previous night it was regarding Harry's fainting spell on the train as a reaction to the dementors harrowing effects. They, Draco and a few unknown Slytherins distracted Potter long enough to pull up the hoods of their robes and perform a satirical "Oooohhhh" looking marginally like the creatures they were mocking.

After the near-fight, Hagrid had appeared with a great thumping as his colossal feet hit the ground. He instructed them to stroke the spine of their books to soothe their frightful temperaments. Gaara did so, but not before he uncorked his gourd so he'd be ready for a sudden, and biting related, attack. Fortunately it seemed he had a way with this world's animals, including the hardback and paperback variety. By the time he'd reached the page Professor Hagrid had called out the book was literally purring in his hands.

The page he was reading, silently, like all of his activities, was about a species of magical creature called the hippogriff. Gaara had wondered why the gigantic new professor hadn't been allocated a classroom and was beginning to suspect it was because of his kind and meek nature when the giant man starting to march forward with the rest of the class trailing behind him whilst trying to open their monstrous books without being attack viciously, though for the poor minority it was in vain.

By the time the entire combined class of Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived at a clearing within the surprisingly well lit forbidden forest the gourd baring red-head was sure it was going to be a practical lesson, he surmised by the looks of the large hippogriffs standing in the centre of the clearing. They each looked to easily be the size of a horse and had the head of an eagle along with talons bigger than most kunai. They were moving towards Hagrid who had stood at the front of the class, in between them and the animals, and was explaining that they were proud and dangerous. That rung a bell with Gaara but he couldn't place the familiar description.

Rubeus continued his explanation, showing quite a bit more ability than the shinobi would have credited him with from the brief encounters the had had as well as the giant's appearance but he seemed as proficient at teaching as Snape, but without the irritating personality and damp classroom. The time came for a demonstration as he called for volunteers from the students, to approach one of the deadly looking creatures. Gaara, along with the twenty or more students around him took a large step back, leaving one student standing at the front of the class.

Gaara unnoticeably smirked as he looked upon the startled face of Harry Potter who was moved forwards by Hagrid's massive hands. Harry was forcibly moved towards the closest Hippogriff, called Buckbeak if Gaara had heard correctly. As instructed Harry walked forwards further and bowed lowly to the half bird, half horse creature which wasn't immediately returned, causing the teacher to start to panic and start to approach the student and animal hoping to avoid an incident on his first day of teaching. Fortunately he was going to avoid losing his job as the bird head started to lower until the beak was practically touching the ground, causing almost the entire class, minus most of the Slytherins, to breathe a great sigh of relief.

Before anything else could have possibly happened, Hagrid lumbered over to the, still shocked, teen and picked him up causing the black-haired Potter to start to object, especially when he was sat atop the large bird-horse. As he voiced the last of his objections the professor slapped the hippogriffs behind like one would do to its horse counter-parts and like a horse it started to gallop away from the group, its wings starting to flap.

Soon after, the hippogriff with the supposed saviour atop of it flew into the sky and out of sight. Gaara looked back towards his teacher and wasn't surprised to see a big smile on his face.

Around five minutes after the screaming boy-who-lived had disappeared he returned, landing almost in the exact same spot he had taken off from. Hagrid walked over and helped him down before pulling what appeared to be a dead weasel or pheasant off of his coat and threw it to the animal a few feet from him. The bird head chomped on it happily before walking away a little ways, back to its herd.

Hagrid had leaned down towards Harry and his friends before standing back up straight with a very pleased look on his face. Gaara hadn't heard what he had said due to him still standing with the Slytherins who looked decidedly less impressed than their rivals at the flight of one of the students. Their disapproval of the apparent achievement grew to such an extent that Draco couldn't hold it to himself any longer. He started to insult the hippogriff, Buckbeak, whilst approaching it. He called it an overgrown turkey and ridiculed it in many other ways, none of which were advisable if the shouting and terrified face of their magical-creature-expert teacher was a sign.

Gaara was running forwards before the talons of the enraged hippogriff left the ground and by the time they were about to strike Malfoy, who had raised his fore-arm in a terrified attempt at self defence, Gaara had already uncorked his gourd again and was letting the sand flow out of it and in front of the terrified aristocrat's son. The san formed a rough shield to block the razor sharp claws from doing any damage to Draco. After the unsuccessful strike, Buckbeak landed back on its feet before walking away looking as angry as Gaara had ever seen a bird get.

Hagrid looked more than just relieved to see that no one was hurt, so much so that he didn't stop to question the shield of sand that had since dissolved and been drawn back into the gourd from where it had originally sprung. Unfortunately the sand had not gone so unnoticed by the rest of the class who seemed determined to ask him all kinds of questions that he had no doubt they had wanted to ask since the morning. As they, the entire class, walked towards him, Gaara backed away quickly and walked towards the hippogriffs and Hagrid who had since gone to check on them and thank whoever was listening for not having to explain to an angry Lucius Malfoy that his son was almost maimed.

Rubeus noticed the scary silent student approach him and his herd of hippogriffs and by way of an apology and to show his gratitude for saving his rear, he turned to Gaara and asked "Wanna ride one o' these beauties?"

Gaara shook his head, not wanting to leave his gourd on the ground where it would most likely be toyed with and possibly broken by the ignorant and, for some, jealous students.

Unfortunately for the sand Jinchuriki, Rubeus Hagrid smiled and undid the strap running across his chest for him before hastily picking him up and depositing him on one of the hippogriffs; despite his silent, frantic, protests.

The hippogriff didn't seem to be too happy with the pairing either, much like the red-head who was still being held onto the bird-horse hybrid. Gaara couldn't help but notice that the giant hadn't let him go through the bowing ritual that Harry had had to before, Hagrid was obviously too excited with not being in trouble to follow his own procedures.

Before either, magical creature or perturbed demon container could voice, or, in the latter's case mime, any of their protests and profanities at being forced to ride/carry the other, Hagrid slapped the giant horse's ass sending it into a veritable charge ending much the same as the previous one, in the sky.

Gaara had to close his mouth as he flew through the sky, being utterly shocked to have been thrust into the air on the strange foreign creature. He gripped strongly onto the feathers on the back of the eagle-like head as the owner of the head swooped through the air. Just as he was starting to enjoy the feeling of flying through the air, like the wind that his country was famous for, he jerked suddenly as the bird dropped down to just above the tree line causing him to accidentally tear out a few of the feathers he had been holding.

Sufficed to say, that didn't end well for the short crimson haired sand sibling.

In mid-air, the startled and angered hippogriff started to swoop faster and more excitedly, like a bull trying to forcibly eject an irritating cowboy. Gaara almost desperately tried to get a tighter grip on the feathers on the back of the squawking beast's neck; but even that effort couldn't prevent him from being thrown straight over the bird head and falling twenty feet through the air before hitting the top of one of the countless trees that made up the deepest area of the forbidden forest. He hit the top of the tree wishing he had his sand on his back, as the coming fall would have hurt a lot less. As he brushed past the highest branches he tried to stick his feet to the tree trunk but he was falling too fast, which was made painfully clear as he started to impact on the lower, thicker, branches of the pine.

Gaara, being the wise ninja he was, had learned from his mistakes and had remembered to activate his armour of sand before being forced onto the giant bird-horse, which was probably the only reason he was conscious after hitting the hard cold ground. Though he was conscious, he wished he wasn't as the armour had taken the brunt of the potentially fatal fall but left him with a dislocated arm and possibly a broken leg as well as what he imagined would be plenty of bruises. The worst part was that he didn't have enough sand with him to carry him, nor did he have enough time to sit around and try to make more. Gaara pushed himself, using the nearest tree, to his feet and started to limp through the dangerous forest. He wasn't worried, walking through the woods which were renowned in this world for being incredibly perilous, as, even with the limited sand he had coating his body, he could still defend himself.

He continued limping through the dense growth of roots that comprised the forest floor until he could hear the faintest shouts of the giant who had put him on the beast in the first place. At that point it had been nearly two hours since his take-off but Hagrid and some of the students had stayed behind after the classes for the day had ended to look for the absentee new student.

Gaara started to walk towards the voices that couldn't have been more than a mile or two away when he heard a low rumbling, almost like an earthquake but more localized. It was off towards the mountains but whatever it was; Gaara decided it sounded distinctly angry. Deciding not to dwell on nor investigate the rumbling noise whilst he had so little sand, he moved on. It didn't take too much longer to get back to the opening in the forbidden forest where he had left over two and a half hours before, despite what he was beginning to suspect was a twisted ankle as well as the broken leg and dislocated arm. Ninja's had to continue no matter how injured they were, and he had heard tales of ninja's who had marched onwards after losing limbs. The only reason he was struggling so much with the injuries was because he had only started getting injured during missions in the last year-or-so. Ever since the Chunin exam he had been sent on more dangerous missions resulting in the damages to his body. But it was still rare that he was hurt this badly meaning that by the time he was spotted by his teacher he was about ready to collapse.

Hagrid had been so worried for his student that by the time he spotted a patch of blood red past the trees, over two hours after he had disappeared, he hadn't stopped to think that not only were the kind Gryffindors helping him look but also the usually cold and distant Slytherins, who were known to be almost as callous to their own as they were to everyone else. For them to have been searching meant either a very good sign or a foreboding one.

The giant bounded towards the limping, stumbling, Gaara, followed soon after by the student search party, comprised of most of the Gryffindors, Draco Malfoy and all of the Slytherins that the latter could blackmail. The red-head was less than happy to see Hagrid as he firmly placed blame for his most recent suffering, but he didn't have the luxury of standing still long enough to kill or maim the man as he needed to get to his sand before he passed out. If he was going to be unconscious in this school he needed to close to his sand. He couldn't leave himself defenceless, because he knew, after the eventful day he had had, he wasn't safe.

When the group neared Gaara they all, including the stoic purebloods, simultaneously gasped when they saw the deep dark cracks that webbed across the glaring teen's face as well as his hands and presumably everywhere else on his body.

"Gaara, what happened? What happened to your face?" Hermione pried, a perfectly normal action for her.

"I knew it!" Exclaimed Ron at the mute teen's silence, misconstruing the lack of immediate explanation for the cracked face and disappearance as a sign of guilt. "He's an impostor, look at his face!" He pointed in righteous indignation "And remember on the train and the way he uses that sand he's always carrying around! And he doesn't speak to anyone!" He had blurted out the entire accusation at an ear splitting volume pushing the accused into further pain and displeasure.

"He's mute Ronald, he showed us the scar when we met him in the Leaky Cauldron" Gaara almost face palmed as Granger explained his continued silence.

Throughout the entire encounter Gaara hadn't stopped stumbling forwards to where he had been forced onto the hippogriff despite the wall of students seemingly trying to block his advances, obviously attempting to get him to lay down or explain before he hurt himself more.

"But look at his face 'Mione!" The orange-haired teen bellowed once more, the last time such an outcry was sounded as he received a swat to the back of his head for his troubles from the aforementioned girl.

"I'm sure he has a very reasonable explanation for that" Hermione said, almost patronisingly to her friend "He might have a skin condition or maybe-" She was cut off when Gaara held up his hand and, despite his reluctance to do so, removed some of the sand covering his face to show that he looked the same underneath it. He collected the sand, as it dissolved off of his face, in his hand before commanded it to recover the pale skin once again. He had been fortunate not to earn any bruises on his face as they were sure to be purple and encompassing over his small body.

"He's made of sand" One of the other students gasped making Gaara question the teaching of the previous years of the school as the student didn't seem to be quite as bright as the average person, even Konoha's Green Beast hadn't accused of him being 'made of sand' and he wasn't exactly a genius.

Fixing another glare at that student, Gaara noticed the pile of sand in the forest floor, the gourd having obviously been broken whilst he was gone. He recalled the sand to him, reforming into his gourd in mid-air before being strapped back onto his leather brace. A look of fear passed over most of the students, soon turning into a look of absolute terror as he led some of the sand drift up to form shapes. They seemed to think he was going to attack them, and whilst it was tempting it wasn't what he did…anymore.

'It's armour.' The sand spelt out again. Oh how he loathed his inability to speak. Thankfully for him, it was only an inconvenience and not crippling.

The message caused a look of realisation to wash over the previously startled teens before it vanished again when one of his fellow Slytherins asked him about his disappearance.

Gaara was amazed some of these people were able to dress themselves in the morning with such simple minds, then again, they probably used magic for that.

He used the sand to morph into new words, simple enough to conserve chakra and his precious time, time which was quickly running out before he would pass out 'I fell' All of the students expressions, minus some of the more composed Slytherins and the ever optimistic teacher shifted into more embarrassed and surprised.

It was at this point that Gaara decided that he was safe enough so he slipped out of consciousness to the sounds of startled shouts and the feeling of being picked up. His last act was to command the sand to protect him.

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A/N: Please review because it really helps motivate me to write.


	3. Chapter 3: A New Scar

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction.

A/N: First off, you guys kick ass. I love reading your reviews and I can't really thank you enough so I hope you will enjoy this latest chapter or at least I hope you pretend you do when you all review it…

Also, I want to say that I don't have a fixed schedule for release, nor do I have a fixed schedule for writing. I apologize for the uncertainty of my continuation and the ambiguity of my release dates but there isn't much I can do about it considering I have a short attention span and a relatively busy schedule. Still, I'll continue to write as quickly as possible and I hope you continue to read.

On one final note, due to the long gap between updates, which will be a continuing trend I assure you, I have decided to add a 'Last time' section so you don't need to remind yourselves where I left off in the previous chapter. I've seen others do it and I liked it.

Now, enough with the boring A/N, and on with the show!

Oh, and Merry Christmas!

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(Last Time)

_He used the sand to morph into new words, simple enough to conserve chakra and his precious time, time which was quickly running out before he would pass out 'I fell' All of the students expressions, minus some of the more composed Slytherins and the ever optimistic teacher shifted into more embarrassed and surprised. _

_It was at this point that Gaara decided that he was safe enough so he slipped out of consciousness to the sounds of startled shouts and the feeling of being picked up. His last act was to command the sand to protect him. _

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"Headmaster, I want that abomination thrown out of the school at once!"

"I'm afraid I will have to agree with Severus on this; it doesn't seem safe for him to be around the students when we know so little about the boy."

"Severus, please, we cannot remove the boy whilst he is still unconscious. And from what Hagrid has been telling me, Gaara saved young Mr Malfoy's life earlier today."

"But Albus, that weapon on his back-"

"I will talk to Mr Gaara about his origins, and see if I can't get him to leave his…" At this, Dumbledore paused "-personal belongings in his room during classes from now on."

"Why can't we leave Gaara alone?" Hagrid boomed, "'E really saved Draco Malfoy today… though 'e also ruffled up Snaggleclaw's feathers, but 'e seemed nice enough." Hagrid stated, having taken a shine to the terrifying teen who he had carried to the infirmary several hours prior to the staff meeting, that was held annually on the evening of the first day back, usually for discussing all of the initial problems around the school and so on, though, this year, seemed to be greatly focussed on the mystery student who was fast becoming even more famous that their resident saviour-in-glasses.

"But what of this prophecy that all of the students have been nattering on about since this morning?" Snape questioned, fully believing it to be a fake prediction, though, still an irritant and an issue to be removed as soon as possible.

"I will need absolute secrecy from here-on-out," Albus said with all of the usual mirth disappearing from his voice, "as what I am about to tell you must not reach outside ears. From what Sybil has been telling me, this morning's prophecy made about Mister Gaara was real," This garnered mutters around the room, all stating that almost all of her 'sights into the future' were false despite her heavy defence of their credibility. Dumbledore waited for quiet to reign once more before he continued "and I believe she is telling the truth. It wouldn't be the first time she has made an accurate prediction." Dumbledore looked over his half-moon spectacles towards Minerva, Severus and Remus, giving them a knowing look to convey the hidden meaning, regarding the last true prophecy she had made about Harry Potter all those years ago.

Gasps circulated the room at the revelation, leading many to turn towards the shaky little woman in the corner, who looked about as surprised as the rest of the staff, although hers and the three other staff members in the know, were shocked by the apparent similarity to the prophecy that led to the Potter's death and subsequently Harry Potter's destiny.

Lupin, who had remained silent until this point to hide his secret/illegal connection to Gaara, had heard about the foresight when he arrived back that morning after his monthly late night run, and was more shocked than anyone to say the least. Like most, he could only speculate about the exact meaning, as he knew little more than most about the red-head other than his foreign background and his past as a ninja, which was strange enough. "Sir, do you have any idea what it might have meant?" He broke the tense silence, needing to know who his best living friend had aligned himself with.

"I fear the only person who can decipher the meaning behind Sybil's prediction is the boy himself." Albus replied before turning towards Mrs Pomfrey and following up his statement, "How is Gaara, Poppy?"

Like Trelawney, who was still slumped in the corner whimpering ever so slightly, Poppy Pomfrey was also sitting away from the others, looking nervous and uncertain. She glanced up when she heard her name, seemingly coming out of a trance before taking a moment longer to process the question she was faced with. "The boy…He's still unconscious but he had a dislocated arm, broken right leg and sprained left ankle as well as heavy bruising all over his body from what I could see."

"So he should be fine by now, am I correct?" Albus said with a smile making him look like the perfect grandfatherly figure.

"Well… that's where there was a problem. My spells worked in diagnosing the boy fine but when it came time to heal him, they were blocked."

"Blocked?" Flitwick asked.

"Well… they didn't seem to affect him at all. Even my most powerful spells didn't heal the boy." She said looking as perturbed as a witch whose magic had been proven ineffectual should. "At first I assumed it was because he was covered in coating of sand, which I was able to chip off somewhat, but even after that I still couldn't heal him."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a few moments, the influx of information was a lot for his old mind, before he turned back to his trusted medical witch, "Poppy, please return to the infirmary and inform me when he wakes up, as I think there are a few questions that need to be answered." Albus said.

"Headmaster, why didn't you investigate this boy before you admitted him to the school?"

"I was distracted; I ran out of lemon drops and I was planning to visit Hogsmeade to pick up some more that day." Dumbledore said, making every last teacher either smile good naturedly or face palm and storm off. Of course, it had been a complete lie on Dumbledore's part, as he never ran out of lemon drops. He didn't want everyone there to know his real reasons for allowing the increasingly mysterious mute teen into Hogwarts. "I think if there isn't any other pressing business to attend to, we should all retire and enjoy an early night's sleep." Albus ushered the remaining teachers and Hogwarts staff out of his office before returning to his desk and writing a letter to the Ministry of Magic. He needed more information about this boy and despite his dislike for the Ministry; he couldn't leave things to chance any longer, though, that wasn't to say that he was going to tell them the whole truth either.

* * *

Professors Snape and Lupin both left the meeting feeling anxious from the startling information garnered from the previous discussion about their enigmatic charge and, that, in the entirety of the two and a half hour assembly, they hadn't talked about anything other than Gaara.

Snape pointedly ignored Remus as they descended the staircase, the former hoping not to have to speak to his old school-yard 'chum'. He reached the hallway at the bottom of the narrow winding stairway and briskly walked onwards, trying, in earnest, to lose Lupin, lest he start up another irritating conversation that would be sure to make his blood boil, intentionally or not.

He looked up ahead at the oncoming passages whereupon he would travel to the left whilst his peer would be forced to walk in the opposite direction if said peer wanted to make it back to his office before midnight. He was counting down the steps until he was safe from further aggravation but as luck would have it, just as he thought he was free from annoyance, he heard: "By the way Severus," Lupin said walking just as fast as the potions master at this point, "-I don't suppose you've noticed how closely Gaara resembles Lily Potter, have you?" Remus finished the rhetorical question innocently before veering off in the direction of his office with the sadistic satisfaction that only came when he toyed with 'Snivelus'. He was never one to antagonize anyone, and he had never fully supported the bullying of Severus when they were all at school together, but he couldn't resist mentioning the one thing he knew would drive Snape insane. It was an impulse more than a vendetta, but he still couldn't help himself, despite how guilty he would feel in the morning. As Lupin continued walking down the hall, silently chuckling to himself, he mused that he still had a month until he needed the senior potion expert's help again. Besides, it was not as if it wasn't true; Gaara did look a lot like his deceased friend's wife, startlingly so.

Snape, on the other hand, wasn't in such high spirits about the verbal jab, having felt every taunt laced within it. Especially the addition of 'Potter' instead of Evans, which made him spend an extra hour that night roaming the halls to torture punish wayward students. He managed to find three wanderers but even that didn't satisfy him. By the time he made it back to his personal chambers that night, he was still angry enough to revise his lesson plans for the next week to include a pop quiz for every class.

There would be blood.

* * *

It was late. Most people can usually gauge this simple fact for themselves after a long and tiring day of classes, ending with an eventful Care of Magical Creatures, including a greatly injured student and an angry hippogriff. However, the fact that Ronald Weasley kept bringing the irksome subject of the time and his minor sleep deprivation to the attention of his two closest friends was not helping anyone.

They had been up for the past few hours after lights-out for a few reasons: first, was the topic of Harry's prophecy and the possibly related big scary black dog he met towards the end of his stay with the Dursleys; second, was the ongoing mystery of Gaara, which seemed to be on everyone's minds for one reason or another. The final reason they were up was because they had a nagging suspicion regarding both Crabbe & Goyle; Malfoy's loyal lackeys, had been hospitalized the night before and had yet to wake up from the brutal assault that had been carried out. Most had dismissed this event as two oafish boys fighting for some trivial reason or another, and so it was ignored. The so-called 'Golden Trio' were not so unquestioning. They had the crazy notion that the strange and violent looking new student was involved somehow, though it was only a suspicion.

On top of the attack, Gaara was still just an enigma, which, according to Hermione, was better off solved for everyone's sake. They resolved to go and sneak into the infirmary and try to discover something, anything about the unconscious anomaly. There was just one problem to deal with…

"Just get under the cloak Ron." Harry said for the third time, trying to persuade the reluctant friend to join Hermione and him in their 'justified' quest to snoop into another person's personal life, to sate their curiosity.

"Aren't we being a bit, you know…nosy?" The ginger third-year questioned looking doubtful and afraid.

"No." Hermione answered simply, looking as self righteous as she often did in these situations, before ducking back under the invisibility cloak.

Soon enough the older male gave into the selfish logic, too tired to argue any further, and joined the other two under the fabric as they made their way out of the Gryffindor common room and down the hallway towards the sick bay. On the way they had a close call with an irate looking Professor Snape, who seemed to be on the war path earlier this year, but managed to steer clear.

* * *

"I've always hated it in here." Gaara grumbled to himself as he walked through the tempestuous desert plane, using his own influence over the flying debris to deflect the endless sandstorm that had plagued his mindscape since his first trip there all those years ago. He could scarcely see five feet in front of his nose, which, he had to admit, did seem a little worse than usual. He had realised, not too long after his first few visits there that the intensity of the storm depended upon his emotional state. Right now he was still angry at his troubling situation and the earlier events that day that had led to his impromptu lesson in skydiving and, subsequent, spur of the moment nap.

Despite the low visibility in the messy mind, Gaara knew exactly where he was walking, and where he was heading. Just as he expected, he reached the red rock of the cave that led him underground, deeper into his mind. Eventually he reached an enormous cavern, lit by hundreds of eerie hovering spheres of fire that seemed to float around the cave freely, illuminating the solid sand pillars, as wide as Gaara was tall, that bisected the gigantic space from floor to ceiling. Behind the bars of the cage, stood the fittingly large one-tailed demon, Shukaku. The monster was on his back two legs, as per usual, and had the same sadistic smile he often wore when speaking with his host. The Jinchuriki couldn't help but reminisce about all of the years he had been convinced that his prisoner was actually the woman who gave both gave birth to him, the same woman who gave him his cursed name.

"Hello mother." Gaara sarcastically greeted his tenant through the large scowl on his face, with as much sincerity as he was likely to receive in return.

"Hello sonny-boy! It's been too long since you visited!" Shukaku roared with laughter, the deep and menacing chuckles rumbled along the cave's floor causing Gaara to shiver imperceptibly in disgust at his vulgar sealed-demon. "Have you made any new friends? You haven't killed anyone interesting in months." Shukaku continued, looking down at his container with little more than contempt and patronising amusement.

"I need you to answer my question." The red-head glared back at his captive, before turning his head and taking note of the cracks in the sand pillars that kept the tanuki in the secluded cave. The ichibi was bound with both the original seal from before Gaara was born, the one that led to his mother's death; and the newer barrier that he himself had created after fighting _him_. The original procedure that forcibly injected the demon of the sand into him, took the form of shackles that affixed said demon to the furthest wall of the cave. The bars that restrained the beast further and shielded the rest of Gaara's mind from its malicious influence were an addition that he had been building since he got the head-butt of a lifetime. It was what allowed him to spend his nights asleep instead of killing people, which, he had to admit, was a great deal more peaceful.

"What happened on the full moon?" Demanded Gaara, asking his most pressing question first, mindful of his tenant's rapidly changing moods. He needed to know what had happened that could have damaged his mental blocks so extensively. He couldn't risk letting them dissolve, they were the only things that allowed the red-haired teen to live without the fear of losing his mind further.

"Well well well, and here I thought my good little host would be tellin' me." The great monster chortled with what seemed like genuine amusement at his captor's ignorance. "Never mind, it'll be even more fun next month when I finally get to take a peek outside."

"I have another question." Gaara stated after a moment, in which he pondered on the cause of the lunar disturbances, since even his supposedly old and wise demon didn't seem to know. Then again, with Shukaku, you could never tell if he was telling the truth or not. "Why hasn't my voice returned yet? Your chakra should have healed it within a few weeks."

"Why should I heal you? You're so borin' these days; you don't even kill people anymore…" The titanic creature rumbled, acting more childish and spiteful than a demon of his calibre ought to.

This struck Gaara, he had assumed the reason to be something like because of the extensive and serious nature of the wound it would take longer to heal, or the same reason for the strange issue of the full moon was also the cause; but for it to be something so immature as a bored Biju almost led to Gaara's first sweat drop and face palm, but even in front of this revelation he was able to maintain most of his composure. However, Gaara's glare worsened, causing Shukaku to openly laugh in his face.

If Gaara was honest with himself, he would have had to admit that he wasn't entirely affected by his mutism, as, even when he could speak, he didn't speak that often anyway. So it wasn't such a drastic change to his life that he could really get mad, but the reason for his demon's stubbornness was well within the bounds of reasonable fury in the red-head's opinion.

Letting out a small sigh at the hopelessness of certain creatures, Gaara continued the strained conversation, which seemed to turn into a decidedly one-sided question and answer session, and it wasn't on his side.

"No way is my host so weak that he couldn't even take a little fall like that!" Shukaku cried after Gaara explained why he was in his mindscape in the middle of the day. Gaara usually waited until it was night time to check up on the demon or ask a question, so it came as a delightful surprise when his little Jinchuriki told him he fell over a hundred feet and got beat up enough to lose consciousness and break a bone or two. Soon after the delight faded it was replaced by disbelief for the humungous entity at the prospect that a shinobi on the level that Gaara was at was so badly wounded.

"I was trying to stop myself from falling, I didn't have time to prepare for the impact as well." Gaara said, almost looking embarrassed that he was rumbled by the monstrous creature inside of him. "If I had had my sand with me I would have been fine." It might have seemed like Gaara was trying to justify himself to his dreaded demon but he was really trying to make sense of his own mistake.

"I wish they'd stuck me with someone worth inhabiting, like that idiot from the leaf with Kyubi. At least that orange bastard got that kid, N-"

"Shut up demon!" Gaara cut in, not willing to listen to the ridiculous monster rant at him any longer.

"Touchy." Shukaku sulked at being scolded by the boy who was about one hundredth of his size. "It's not my fault you're so stupid you didn't think of making more sand to get back to that boring castle."

That shocked Gaara; he didn't know Shukaku could think an intelligent argument. Of course, Gaara had thought of making more sand using his armour so he could carry himself back instead of making his wounds worse, but that wasn't really an option considering the ground surrounding the castle he currently resided in was made out of minerals that were incredibly hard to turn into sand and were also very wet. It had taken him around ten or twelve hours last time he tried to make enough sand, and he had needed at least some medical attention before then. It was an incorrect argument, but an intelligent one nonetheless.

Gaara didn't bother to explain the problem with creating sand to the demon as he suspected that the ichibi knew the problem before he asked, he was just trying to start an argument.

Oh, how Gaara loathed demons.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione came to stand just outside of the massive wooden doors that led to the infirmary where the target of their amateur enquiries was resting as far as they knew. After their close call with Snape, they had decided to take the long route to the infirmary, which was less likely to have anymore teachers patrolling. When they finally arrived, Ron was stumbling every other step, his eyes drooping as his body begged him to let it sleep. Hermione, contrarily, was almost bursting with curiosity, wanting to discover the mystery of the new student, which she had convinced herself, would be as easy as walking through the big wooden doors she was waiting in front of, though this may have been partially due to the tired state she would not admit she was in. Lastly, Harry was incredibly anxious about everything that was happening around him. The serial killer after his life; the dementor's effects and presence at his supposed safe haven; the new scary teen, whose prophecy actually seemed to outshine his; all of these new elements in Harry's life were so stressful but now he had a chance to remedy one of those problems with a little investigating.

"Are you sure we have to do this?" Ron practically pleaded with his two closest friends through half lidded eyes.

"For the last time Ronald, we have to know if this 'Gaara' person is dangerous." Hermione said, exasperated in the quietest manner possible. "Of all people, _we_ should know. What if he's working with Sirius Black, or worse, you-know-who?" As per usual, the second mentioned individual was spoken with as much care as was usually taken when referring to the murderer.

"But couldn't it wait 'til tomorrow, you know, when we've all had some sleep and breakfast…" Ron ended his argument with a pointed yawn. He was completely ignored as Hermione and Harry discussed what they would ask Gaara when they saw him.

* * *

"I'm leaving now." Gaara stated after having to listen to the infuriating tenant within him mock him about every facet of his being. It was not a new occurrence for the vulgar monster to make light of him, but the reformed red head wasn't in the mood to spend the next few days inside of his mind listening to the single largest burden of his life tell him how he was the littlest shinobi in the world.

"Aww! No fair, take me with you!" Roared the demon of the sand as he started to attack the pillars of sand that separated him from the rest of Gaara's mind. As per usual, the bars of the cage, when damaged, quickly regenerated. This was why the cracks from the full moon were so troubling, considering they had had hours to heal and yet there they were. Fortunately Shukaku wasn't having any luck in breaking through the bars, though it wouldn't grant him freedom even then as he was still shackled to the wall of the cave.

Gaara walked out of the cave, all the while listening to his 'guest' rage on. The sandstorm was just as fierce as when he last saw it, if not worse, because of the aggravation he had just suffered through.

Once the architect of the inner world had reached the right area in the completely indistinguishable landscape, he closed his black rimmed eyes and concentrated.

* * *

Once he opened his eyes again, Gaara saw he was laying in a soft bed, with immaculate pressed sheets, the gourd dutifully sitting next to his bedside. The metal framed hospital bed was surrounded by the standard blue privacy curtain, which Gaara was thankful for as he heard that his face, half covered in sand was quite the terrifying sight. That was according to various villagers and his brother, who had had been slightly more elaborate in his colourful description of his little brother's face.

Reaching his hand towards his gourd, he was irritated to find his arm in a sling. He was glad to find that despite his obviously grievous injuries, he was without any serious pain. He assumed that whoever had brought him to the medical bay had used some kind of painkiller or spell to alleviate the worst of the discomfort.

Gaara surmised from the candle being the only source of light in the otherwise dark infirmary that he had slept through the evening and into the night. He tested his arm to see how badly damaged it was, but was relieved to see it was already beginning to heal. Though, his broken leg was another matter, as he knew it was take at least a week to heal a broken bone.

The bed-bound boy wanted to see who else was in the hospital area but was reminded that unless he wanted to don a green spandex jumpsuit and orange leg warmers, he wouldn't be walking anywhere with a broken leg.

When he had finished checking over his body for any other ailments, he was reminded that his face was still half covered with his armour of sand like a horror movie reject, so he reached out his other hand and had the sand trickle out of the gourd and onto his face. When his face had become the pale porcelain mask it was supposed to be, he sat back in the surprisingly comfortable bed and tried to go back to sleep, seeing nothing else to do until morning when he would undoubtedly be inundated with questions from the teachers about what happened.

The tanuki host sighed lightly when he realized that after the several-hour nap he had just indulged in, he wasn't going to be sleeping anymore that night. He sat back up, trying to locate where the doctor or nurse might have stored his clothes, disliking the hospital gown he had been changed into during his slumber, but to no avail it seemed as the bedside table didn't have anything inside of it other than a half eaten box of jelly beans that looked months old, and an old sock. Since Gaara didn't want either of the two items he looked around his secluded area, but the only other thing within sight was his trusty gourd which, true to its orders, hadn't left his side even when he was asleep.

As long as he wasn't going to get any sleep, Gaara reasoned, he might as well have a look around. Even if he couldn't stand up, he wasn't called Sabaku no Gaara for nothing.

The small hand, not held in a sling, reached out to the over sized container of sand and formed a one handed seal, causing the cork to pop off and more sand to fly out, pooling at the foot of the bed until about half of the gourd's sand had been expelled. Gaara closed his hand causing the sand on the floor to follow suit and compact into a more stable platform, about three feet in diameter.

It was quite awkward for the racoon impostor to manoeuvre himself off of the bed and onto his now floating pad of sand, but he managed to land on the deceptively soft bed of sand in a kneeling position. He was thanking whatever latecomer god of luck that seemed to be on his side that his leg wasn't in a full length cast, as it was have made moving all the more difficult.

Gaara, comfortable on his floating mound of sand, used his power and rose upwards so he could look over the curtains and survey exactly what sort of facility he was staying in.

He hadn't quite expected to see what he saw. As what he saw, was none other than the two boys he had beaten half to death the night before sat in a pair of beds on the other side of the medical bay, which, from his observations, seemed to be as lacking in technology as the rest of the school. But the primitive technology, or lack of, didn't hold the shinobi's attention for long in light of his recent discovery.

The Jinchuriki couldn't help but feel a small measure of guilt when it occurred to him that he had actually forgotten about the two thugs he had hospitalized on the full moon. He had been so wrapped up in the fear of Shukaku's influence and the hundreds of other problems he was having that day that he hadn't actually thought of the two teenage non-combatants he had nearly killed. More to the point, he hadn't thought of a way to keep them quiet. He wasn't nearly skilled enough at Genjutsu to erase their memories, nor was he optimistic enough to hope that they had lost all of their memories of the night before.

Gaara ducked down behind the curtain to think for a few moments, before he had an epiphany. He had been presented with a golden opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, though not in the more literal sense which would surely disappoint his blood thirsty demon. Gaara flew up again, so that his head was visible to the two idiots in the messy beds who were now playing cards that seemed to explode for some reason beyond Gaara's understanding and interest, after which, he waited patiently until the idiot with the slightly rounder head glanced in his direction before doing a terrified double-take, prompting the boy sitting with his back to Gaara to turn around and do the exact same action.

Gaara did his fiercest glare at the two goons, before he rose upwards slightly so that he could lift his arm, the arm not in the sling, into the view of the two boys. He knew that he had their complete attention when he thrust his arm towards them with his index finger extended, causing both to flinch almost comically. He then drew his pointer back to his mouth, holding it there for a few second in a silent shushing gesture before he removed it again and started to slowly shake his head, never taking his eyes off of them. His last gesture to them was that of sliding his thumb across his throat like he had with the headmaster.

To Crabbe and Goyle, the meaning of the silent message was loud and clear: 'Don't tell anyone, or I will kill you!'

Satisfied that his job was done and he had satiated his curiosity, he lowered himself to the level of the warm and cosy hospital bed and rolled himself back onto it with skilful ease, without hurting his leg, arm or battered torso once.

He was quite happy with himself; he didn't feel guilty for hurting the two buffoons, who were now huddled under their covers filled with fear the likes of which most never have to endure, and now he knew why. The two large boys had started an unprovoked attack on someone smaller than them with no prior knowledge that he was trained in fighting from birth, meaning that they were bullies and Gaara didn't like bullies.

The first figurative bird the stone had killed was the secrecy he had just instilled in his classmates, which he was sure would be enduring considering the level of fear present on their faces when he had descended back into his secluded area of the hospital wing. The second metaphorical bird was probably more important than the first, being that he wanted to save someone from the mistakes he had made in his past. Draco Malfoy was a lot like himself, Gaara had thought, seeing as he was callous and often cruel because he was expected to be. Whilst Gaara had a demon and a village of people expecting him to kill and then hating him for it, Draco had the snobs that surrounded him in Slytherin, the two thugs that he had just struck with fear and probably a family that instilled this hatred of others in him. Gaara had learnt from a certain someone that the only way to end the suffering and become truly strong was to remove the hatred and find people you wish to protect. He couldn't stand to see his roommate and first connection with someone of his own age in this world fall into the spiral of hatred, so he removed one of the influences that drove the misguided aristocrat to act so coldly.

As Gaara settled back, readying himself for a few hours of meditation, though, not the inner mind exploration kind of meditation, but rather the clearing of one's mind; he felt a presence enter the room. It felt like three people, but their chakra signatures seemed to be distorted. The ninja of the sand had been happy to discover that the people of this world gave off chakra signatures like his own world, though they were much weaker in this world, meaning he was able to sense people in a similar fashion. The downside was that, as the volumes of power were so much smaller than his own world, he could only sense them when he was meditating and it had a very limited range. Still, it had its uses. Detecting sneaky little wizards was one of them.

Gaara continued to concentrate intently on the presence that was moving through the room slowly and carefully, obviously looking for something or someone. The sensation of chakra moved past his secluded area, and towards Crabbe and Goyle, who, by the sounds of things, were shivering in fright and hidden under their bed sheets. The intruders walked to the end of the infirmary, by the obese shaking teens, before it seemed to return to standing just outside of the curtain.

Opening his eyes, Gaara spread the sand from the platform he had been using before, on the floor around his bed, ready for any malevolent trespassers if the need arose to defend himself.

The injured shinobi waited patiently, but the longer he waited the more anxious he became. Before long, Gaara had convinced himself that the people outside of the curtains were most certainly ninjas, there to attack him, so much so that he was already channelling chakra into the sand on the floor so that he might be able to attack a little bit quicker.

What had seemed like hours of waiting to the antsy red-head was actually no more than a minute or so, before the curtain that encircled the bed was quietly drawn, only enough for a peak at first before it opened wider, revealing a lack of anything to the boy on the bed. The boy was astonished, as he looked on at the void where someone should be. Concentrating, he could still feel the people there, but couldn't see them.

If Gaara was tense before seeing nothing, as oxymoronic as it sounded even to himself, he was at an entirely new level of anxiety. He was injured and there was an intruder with enough ability to become invisible, which was an S-rank jutsu. It did occur to the seasoned ninja, that it might have been some kind of spell, and that instead of a highly skilled, S-rank shinobi suppressing their chakra, bearing an evil intent, it could have been a few wizards trying to find out about the strange/scary new kid. This thought was quickly dismissed in place of the tried and tested pessimism that had kept him alive all those years.

As if peering out of a crack in space itself, a teenage face peaked into existence in front of Gaara's bed. Gaara mentally berated himself for being so naive, as the immature face of Harry Potter looked at him in mild surprise before it disappeared again. It was more shocking to the trained assassin that he had been so wrong, than the fact that the irritating boy, and presumably his two friends, had snuck into the medical bay in the middle of the night looking for him.

After a few second Gaara grew tired of waiting for the hiding young wizards to reappear so he formed a tentacle out of sand and wrapped it around where he felt them standing, causing a small squeak to be emitted as the sand vine wrapped around the intruders tightly enough for them to still instantly, not able to fight back. Sighing, Gaara relented and released the students, letting them fall to the floor revealing that they had been using some kind of sheet to hide.

The injured foreigner waited as the startled teens attempted to regain their collective breaths, before they all turned to look at him in absolute anger and fear, a common sight for the demon container.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Demanded Ron in one of his trademark fits of ignorant rage. "You could have killed us!" He supported this exaggerated accusation by holding his throat as if his still couldn't breathe.

Gaara stared evenly at them, holding his face as impassive as he could, despite the hypocrisy of the ginger child as he declared, after intruding on an injured peer, that Gaara was rude. Granted, the youngest male Weasley didn't use such tame language but the sentiment was still sent and received.

Harry and Hermione waited along with Ron for an answer before the only girl in the room realised, long after she should have, that the person they were questioning couldn't talk, much less answer their imminent questions. As the three boys stared each other down, Gaara managing to easily outdo both of the Gryffindors, Hermione smacked the two by her sides in the back of the heads, ending the childish match immediately. The two, having been unexpectedly hit turned and gaped incredulously at their friend in utter shock and bewilderment at the unsolicited attack. Soon enough, after they had regained their senses, though it didn't take quite as long for some as others, they both burst into a fit of angry questions similar to the ones that Ronald had asked only moments ago towards the now forgotten blood-red-head.

"We can't ask Gaara any questions," Hermione started looking a little embarrassed at her own violent outburst, "he can't talk."

Harry and Ron looked at the flustered girl, before looking each other in slight humility and reproach before turning back to Hermione with puzzled looks on their faces. "Weren't you the one who said we should come here and ask Gaara questions?" Harry asked, regaining some of his humour in light of his friend's oversight, Ron agreeing quietly next to him.

"Well…that's not important right now. The important thing is that we're here and he's okay." The accused quickly recovered, after this, she turned to Gaara and apologized quietly for all three of them.

The apology garnered the first, albeit miniscule, response from the only person who was meant to be there, in the form of a small nod. This seemed to spur the intrigued trio on, as if they had forgotten the transgressions of the last few minutes.

"Use your sand to answer again." Harry suggested/commanded, after reviewing the problems they had had the last time they asked Gaara to answer their questions. "We need answers." He said with all of the conviction he could muster, though to the seasoned and sceptical Suna-nin, it seemed more like petulance.

Gaara shook his head, deciding he didn't want to give these people, whom he didn't know nor particularly like from the brief encounters he had had to endure in their company, any easy answers.

As the looks of outrage and incredulity dawned upon the inquisitive triplet's faces, Gaara turned his head to the side and closed his black rimmed eyes. Needless to say, the lions didn't fall for the suspicious person's feigning sleep, nor did they give up on their quest.

"Who are you? Are you working for Voldemort?" Harry cried, losing patience with the 'sleeping' Gaara who did not stir.

"We just want to know what happened." Hermione reasoned to the silent and still Gaara, "How did you get hurt?"

"Say something, or use your sand, you bloody freak!" Ron started forwards, to grab Gaara and shake him until he was sure he was awake. The freckled teen did not account for the sand he had demanded be used, but he could not be blamed as, although adrenaline had kept him conscious, he was still incredibly tired. Due to his sleepless state, Ron didn't see the shield of sand enclose the bed that Gaara was lying on, which gave him enough of a fright to back away so quickly he tripped over Harry's misplaced foot and almost went flying out of the enclosed area. He was saved, barely, by Hermione who grabbed the back of his robes at the correct moment, and pulled him back to his feet where he looked at the dome of sand in fear and shock, which was more or less mirrored by the boy-who-lived.

"What the ruddy hell is that!" Ron exclaimed.

"What is he?" Harry concurred with his loud friend, in an almost equally exuberant manner.

"…He's an injured student with permission to be here…"

"That's not what I meant Herm…" Harry started to reply to his brainy friend's sarcastic reply when he felt a tense hand bear down heavily upon his shoulder. Nervously, Harry glanced away from the giant sand ball in time to see an irate Madam Pomfrey grab Ron by his shoulder in the same menacing fashion. Harry didn't dare move, for fear of incurring any further wrath from the infamous nurse-witch. When Ron had come to the same damning conclusion of imminent punishment, he poked Hermione, prompting her to turn around, which was soon regretted by bushy haired girl after she saw what she was turning around to see.

"What are you doing disturbing my patients, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Ms Granger!" The fuming woman yelled as she pulled the two boys out of the secluded area they had been harassing Gaara in, Hermione following sullenly after. "I will be informing your head of house, of this indiscretion." Poppy Pomfrey ground out through clenched teeth. She came to the doors of the hospital wing and roughly pushed the two teens out, causing them to fall onto their faces. Hermione followed her friends soon after, though, with somewhat more grace as she managed to stay on her feet.

She helped Harry and Ron to their feet, before looking back at the irritated, for good reason, medical witch who threw one more threat their way: "You'll be lucky if don't tell the headmaster about this!" The tired witch slammed the door in their faces, as quietly as possible it seemed.

"Well, that was a waste of time." Ron commented offhand as he started back to their dorm. "Let's hurry before we're caught by another teacher." The ginger boy said, yawning shortly after and not realising that the witch who had terrified each and every one of them wasn't actually a teacher.

"What now?" Harry asked, almost rhetorically; as their plans had been dashed by their discovery, and Gaara had been most uncooperative.

It didn't occur to any of the golden trio at any point that Gaara's bad mood could have been cause by them as they ducked back under the invisibility cloak and walked back to bed.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey, having been woken during her much needed and relished sleep, decided to check on the three patients she had acquired one day into the term's beginning. She first went to the most serious case in her care, the one which she had rescued from the onslaught of questions earlier. She didn't know how useful any inspection of Gaara would really be, considering, last time she checked, he was encase in a ball of sand. This didn't really worry her as she was aware of his abilities, the ones he had showcased before, and so it was probably a defensive measure, and seeing as she couldn't do anything to heal him immediately, he was probably better off safe from others.

She drew back the curtain slightly, expecting to see the pale brown grains of sand that had formed the ball in her infirmary, however, she was surprised to see just the boy laying there, with the most peaceful, that is to say, the least scornful look on his face that she had seen or thought possible. His eyes were closed and she presumed he was sleeping, but the position he was in, sitting up as if addressing company, couldn't have been comfortable. Being the caring soul she was, she moved closer to him, mindful of the sand that apparently protected him even in sleep, and gently slid her hand under his back and slowly moved him down into the warm sheets, receiving no protests whatsoever. When the small boy was situated comfortably under the crisp white sheets, Poppy moved on, silently marvelling at how such a scary and uncompromising boy could be so innocent and small at times.

The rest of the medical expert's night was spent sending the already healed Slytherins on the other side of the medical wing back to their dorm rooms, when she found them to be awake and eager to leave. Afterwards she left to go back to sleep, in hopes of being able to competently examine Gaara in the morning and see if she could remedy his preventative immunity to magic, or at least, healing magic.

* * *

Eyes seemingly ringed with charcoal opened abruptly to find the sun filtering through the paned windows, to the beholder's annoyance. Gaara sat up in the comfortable bed, taking note that nothing was missing nor out of place from last night. He could hear footsteps on the cold hard floor making their way past his area and onwards towards the office at the back of the room.

Already, the Jinchuriki could feel the effects of his accelerated healing; making his previously dislocated arm nothing more than sore and his leg was probably well on the way to being fixed. The majority of his bruises had also faded, meaning that, whilst he would not be running any marathons, the red-head would be semi-mobile, with assistance.

By the time he had finished checking himself over, Gaara had forgiven the sun for being so bright and was moving onto another irritant: his hunger. He had skipped several meals and, when he had healing several injuries as well as his other exertions to fuel, it did tax him somewhat. Gaara would have left for the great hall for breakfast, not willing to let a broken leg and sore arm stop him from feeding himself, but he was still wearing nothing more than a hospital gown. The hungry demon host resigned himself to waiting until he could get his clothes back, or at least, his school uniform back.

About half an hour after Gaara's stomach had rumbled for the first time, the reformed murderer heard the same footfalls moving around outside, and the quiet clinking of thin glass not long after. The curtain was drawn back ever so quietly, presumably so as not to disturb his sleep, despite his wakened state. There stood the nurse, judging by the nurse's uniform, recognizable even to one from another world, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming murderous, immortal, religious zealot.

"Oh! You're awake." She stated, sounding more pleased than fearful, which was a pleasant change from all of the other times he had been visited whilst sick or injured. "Thank goodness. I suppose you're hungry, hmm?" She walked around his bedside and slowly took his wrist in her hand; she tested his pulse before walking back around the bed and checked his other arm, which was still in its sling. Gaara had once been told that he never moved when he was asleep, which wasn't that much of a surprise; what had shocked him was that the person who had watched him sleep all night had the gall to call him creepy.

Gaara nodded to the question, despite it probably being rhetorical and waited, always with the waiting, as she walked back out through the curtain and came back minutes later carrying a tray with some food on it. It was set in front of Gaara, on the table that went across his lap, to which he bowed his head in silent gratitude to the food he so desperately wanted. With no further ado, the patient started to eat his food in such a reserved manner that the witch, currently drawing the curtains from around his bed, would have no clue to the enthusiasm with which he was savouring the food he slowly fed into his mouth.

As the ninja continued to eat at his leisurely pace, Madam Pomfrey, with not other pressing matters to attend to, sat down in a chair she conjured out of thin air, and waited for the boy to finish the meal he was clearly enjoying despite his neutral face. Gaara honestly found it a little unnerving the way she sat there with a serene smile on her face as he did nothing more than eat his food with the basic manners he had been given as a child. He was not used to being cared for when ill, as he had been ill only once before. He had caught the flu and was bedridden for a week, in which Temari had tried to take care of him in a caring and lovingly big-sister kind of way but he had forcibly removed her out of exasperation and suffered all through that week safe in the knowledge that she would have never let him forget a moment of weakness like that. Temari was a caring and often overbearing older sister, but she was still an older sister.

The refined shinobi finished the last bite of his meal and pushed the table away from him, the wheels on the bottom of the table aiding him.

"That's better now, isn't it?" Pomfrey smiled as she pointed her wand at the tray and muttered something making it disappear with not so much as a pop. "Now, do you feel up to answering a few questions or do you want to wait until later?" She asked looking slightly more serious, almost grave in the face of interrogating one of her patients.

Gaara nodded, knowing that he could just ignore her if he didn't want to answer one of her questions. He was also grateful for her medical help and the relished food, so he watched as she cleared her throat and began.

"I tried to heal you last night when Professor Hagrid brought you in, I'm sure you guessed as much. But my spells were all blocked. None of my healing spells helped you at all. I need to know, do you have a curse on you of some kind?" Poppy finished with genuine concern, having come to that most logical conclusion the night before during the hours when she couldn't sleep no matter how hard she tried.

The mute teen hesitated for a moment, considering what to do, before he nodded his head. He agreed to the concept of a curse because admitting a demon was in him was less favourable in his experience. The whole problem with the healing spells wasn't a mystery to the intelligent teen, as he knew of at least one spiteful and just plain mean entity that would go to such lengths to just annoy him. Shukaku was still healing him at an accelerated rate, but was obviously blocking the spells from doing anything further. Oh how he despised that monster!

Pomfrey looked concerned and thoughtful for a brief moment before looking up again with an obviously forced smile, to hide her growing worries about the boy in front of her. "Also, Gaara, what happened yesterday? How did you get so hurt?" This had been the second most pressing question she had wanted to ask, the rest were mere curiosity and could wait until the others arrived.

Gaara, in turn, looked thoughtful also before turning to his gourd and waiting for the cork to pop off and sand to flow out. Instead of assuming the shapes of words above their heads like the matron had expected, the sand flew in front of Gaara and started to mould into the shape of a hippogriff, which she had been told about when the gigantic man had brought him in. The mini sand-hippogriff floated between the two occupants of the infirmary before a sand stick figure, smaller than the model magical monster, climbed onto its back. Madam Pomfrey watched on in fascination as the miniature winged creature took flight and dropped the model-Gaara from a great height.

After a few more routine checks, the nurse left Gaara on his own with promises of returning soon and that he should stay in bed.

The patient wasn't too happy about being ordered around by a civilian, but by the look on her face when she commanded him to stay put, there would be worse hell to pay if crossed her than being insubordinate to the Godaime Hokage.

So he took in his new found view of the room he was in whilst he was alone. It didn't escape his notice that some time between when he threatened them and now, the two goons had left the hospital wing. 'Good riddance' Gaara thought.

* * *

"Good Morning Poppy." Albus welcomed his resident healer into his office with a smile as he finished reading the letter he had received only minutes earlier. The guest knew to wait until Dumbledore had finished whatever he was doing before disturbing him. He was an important man and any mail he got this early in the morning was bound to be fittingly urgent, or so she reasoned. She was shocked, however, when the elderly man had finished the parchment with a serious look on his face before burning the letter and turning to her.

"What can I do for you this morning, Poppy?" The headmaster asked gaining his usual mirth by the end of his sentence to the relief of the stressed healer.

"Sir, Gaara woke up about an hour ago. You asked me to notify you."

"Ah yes, I'd almost forgot about Mister Gaara." Dumbledore lied flawlessly, having thought of little else that night. In fact, the letter that he had received was from the Ministry, to notify him that no one of Gaara's description or name had ever been recorded on any documentation in the magical or in the muggle sector, ever. He had had the response owled to him overnight using his considerable influence at the Ministry of Magic. They had checked and he wasn't even under the surveillance that all underage magical children were automatically added to. This was incredibly troubling for the great wizard as it meant that he had an unknown piece on his chess board and he didn't know whether the was black or white under his coating of sand. Albus realised he had paused in his thoughts so he followed up his previous statement with an enquiry, "How is he doing today, Poppy?"

"Well, he is much better and from what I could tell he seems to be healing incredibly quickly." The nurse-witch looked happy at this revelation, having discovered that many of the injuries from the night before had lessened or in some cases disappeared. She couldn't explain how it was happening other than to dismiss it as another one of the curiosities that seemed to surround her newest patient. "I talked to him briefly and he told me he fell off of a hippogriff, mid-flight. Also, he told me he couldn't be healed because he was cursed."

"Did he mention what curse?" Dumbledore was raptly paying attention hoping to solve the puzzle that was Gaara.

"I'm afraid we didn't really talk, seeing as he's mute. But he did nod when I asked if it was a curse."

"Thank you Poppy." Albus smiled, silently processing the information for later. "Anything else?"

"No, nothing, sir."

"Very well, I will accompany you to the infirmary so I can have a talk with Gaara as well." Waving his wand, the various scrolls on the ancient wooden desk started to pile themselves up or hide themselves in drawers and chests around the room as Dumbledore rose to his feet and walked behind his trusted medic to the hospital so that he might finally get some satisfactory answers.

"Oh, and Albus," Poppy said as she walked through the corridor, "I found Mister Potter and his two friends harassing Gaara in the middle of the night. Probably woke the poor boy up."

Dumbledore chuckled good naturedly at the predictable antics of the golden trio. "Not to worry Poppy, I'm sure Mister Potter and his friends were just as curious as the rest of us who their new classmate is."

Madam Pomfrey couldn't help but notice that, despite Albus' words, he was walking incredibly quickly towards her station of work. The nurse had a difficult time keeping up with her boss as he strode in haste, turning each corner as fast as he could. There was no real rush to get to Gaara, as far as Dumbledore knew, he just had things on his mind that were driving him to worry.

Dumbledore reached the infirmary doors a full sixty seconds before his trusted medical witch, though he decided not to announce his winning the silent foot race as it seemed a little childish, so he settled for eating another Sherbet Lemon as his prize.

Huffing, Poppy arrived to see Albus eat another sweet, before she moved past him in minor annoyance at his obvious childish antics and into her infirmary. Dumbledore followed silently, sucking on his sweet treat in bliss. The old man was less than surprised to find Gaara in bed after he had been told of the seriousness of the injuries the young boy had sustained the night before; however; he would have been lying if he had claimed to have expected the short teen to be awake so soon.

"Good morning Gaara." The bearded white-haired man said merrily as he approached the silently teen who regarded him with subtle caution. The red-head returned the greeting with a nod; pretty much all he was capable of at that point considering his muted voice and unwillingness to exercise his sand abilities for such a trivial response. "I'm glad to see you're up, you had us all worried."

Gaara nodded again; a silent thanks that was just as insincere as the concern in the professor's aged voice.

"I have to get some potions from Severus. I trust you won't tire him out too much." Poppy said softly before leaving with a nod from Albus who waved her off with a smile.

"Gaara, I was hoping that we could reprise our little chat from the other day." The elderly man said as he sat down on the closest chair.

The bed-bound boy sighed silently as he readied himself for one of his least favourite games: 'Question Evasion', the game for grumpy shinobi. Not suitable for children under the age of four. Batteries sold separately. Nonetheless, Gaara slowly nodded his head in resignation to the fact. It could have been worse; Gaara remembered his absolute least favourite game from when he was a child: 'Pin the Kunai on the Jinchuriki'.

"There have been some concerns raised regarding you, Mr. Gaara. More specifically, your past. I realise now that I may have been hasty in my admittance of you into the school considering I know next to nothing of your past." Truth be told, Albus didn't like lying, in fact, he hated lying outright but when it came to protecting the school and the magical world, he didn't have a choice.

Gaara activated his sand and let it form its natural ball shape in the air, ready to answer any question posed, though how they were answered was still up to him.

"Well, I suppose my first question should be: what is your surname? You never mentioned it before." Dumbledore said, listing off all of the things he wanted to know before the end of the morning.

The sand formed the words 'Sabaku no Gaara' without delay. Dumbledore made note of the unusual prefix of 'no' before the second name.

"So Gaara is your surname, and Sabaku is your first?"

*Shakes head*

"Oh, I see. You say your name backwards." Albus stated, almost surprised considering the boy was speaking perfectly fluent and unaccented English yet he had a foreign name and wrote it the other way around, surname after first.

Gaara wasn't too happy about being called backwards but ignored the distasteful comment in favour of concentrating on keeping his face empty and the ball floating, now that the words had dissolved.

"So, I think my next question would be: where are you from?"

Gaara paused for an instant, thinking of a suitable half truth to tell the intrusive person in front of him. When he had decided on the correct omissions the words appeared in the air a sentence at a time. 'I am from a desert village.'

That didn't answer his question.

"What country are you from?"

'We call it Wind Country.'

"What would foreigners call your country?"

'I don't know.'

This was tiring, as far as the questioner was considered, but that did not deter him. "How did you get here?"

'Professor Snape brought me here from Hogsmeade.'

"How did you get to Hogsmeade? There aren't any deserts near here," Dumbledore thought twice about his last statement when he recalled all of the secret places within the wizarding world, "are there?"

'I was transported here.'

"From where?"

'My home country.'

Albus, a man renowned around the wizarding world for his patience and will power was losing this battle it seemed as he was taken around in circles. "Alright. Also, do the other people in your country have the same abilities as you?" Albus needed to know how much of a threat Gaara was and if there were others who could pose a similar threat.

As much care went into the answer as the question, as Gaara tried to think of the correct answer. Either way he might be harmed. If he claimed no one else had his ability to manipulate sand, they might consider him less of a threat and attack him, whilst, if he said others had the power, they might attack him from fear of his race. It was difficult, until he came up with the perfect answer. The truth.

'Our abilities vary.'

"I see. Do your people know you are here? They might be worried." Dumbledore needed this question answered more than any other as this would determine the boy's threat level besides the startling power he had shown previously.

Gaara's reaction said it all and still didn't answer the question. It chilled the headmaster down to the bone, just as it had anyone else who was to see it. Gaara smiled.

'Probably, who's to say?'

"Gaara, how exactly do you move your sand? I haven't seen you touch your wand since you entered the school, and Lupin tells me that you didn't even have one until you had been taken to Ollivander's before term started."

Gaara held back another smirk at how untrained even one so old and experienced as the principal could be, that he didn't even notice that Gaara had been fiddling with the wand, under his sleeve, ever since he had received it. It was nothing short of incompetence.

'I don't need a wand to move my sand.'

"That's very impressive!" Dumbledore said smiling, "I also need to ask about what Professor Trelawney said yesterday, about you."

'Sorry. I don't know anything about what she said. Do you?' Gaara was telling a half truth as he could guess about a few of the basic references within the prophecy but the overall meaning was still unclear.

Dumbledore was truly impressed at this point as he knew he was being taken for a ride by the clever boy before him. "It's sad to say that none of us knows what it meant."

"One last thing, Mister Gaara. Could you refrain from carrying your gourd with you to classes from now on? The teachers don't think it's appropriate." Dumbledore said this with a hint of apprehension, due to the question having an obvious answer that he himself knew would be negative.

'No. It protects me.' It was about the reaction Albus had expected.

"Well, this has been enlightening. Thank you very much; I'm glad we could get to know each other a little better, Gaara." Albus smiled, and the boy sitting across from him noticed the twinkle in his eye start up like a flashlight reflected back at him. Gaara suddenly got the same feeling he had gotten when the irritating hat had tried to read his mind the night before.

The old man wasn't surprised when even a well-versed Legilimens like himself couldn't penetrate the boy's mind, though he didn't put too much force behind his mental attack as he would never forget the sorting hat's reaction to whatever was inside of Gaara's mind.

'Stay out of my mind.' The sand formed these words, surprising the recipient as he had rarely, if ever, been caught snooping through someone's mind before.

"M-my apologies. It's an old habit of mine." Dumbledore stood up; hating how much his knees hurt because of the weather, and nodded his head in further insincere apology.

"I'm afraid I have to be getting back to my work now." Albus stated, standing before Gaara. "Before I go, would you like a Sherbet Lemon?" After a final head shake, Gaara was lefty alone in the infirmary again as the headmaster walked out. It was a true pleasure to be alone sometimes; Gaara couldn't help but admit this to himself as he sat back in the bed, regretting, if only slightly, that he had passed up the sweet from the professor.

Gaara sighed as he unconsciously fiddled with his wand, glad to have been left with it instead of having it confiscated like his clothes seemed to have been.

* * *

Gaara didn't ever, in his wildest demon-fuelled nightmares, imagine that he would ever be so bored that he would fondly reminisce about the times he played 'Catch the Monster'. In his infinite and unending boredom, Gaara noticed that he had been thinking about a lot of the horrifying games he played as a child. Though, even the villagers didn't call them games, they were deadly serious in their desire to kill him. Gaara had begun calling them 'games' through his crippling loneliness and unfulfilled wishes to play or even be with others for the briefest moment. Though, that had ended when he started playing games with the villagers, inspired by 'mother'.

Still, back to the current problem, Gaara was starved for interest in the dull and empty hospital wing. It irked him, that, out of the last five days he had been in Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, supposedly a place of wonder and awe, he had spent the last four days in the hospital wing on bed rest. He had tried to leave once or twice, but even his amazing shinobi skills couldn't evade the eagle-eyed Madam Pomfrey, who, despite her age and lack of formal training, could keep up with best of shinobi.

And thus, the red-haired ninja of the sand was stuck in the most boring section of the apparently wondrous school for magicians. All visitors had been turned away, most being curious irritants called students and a few actually being concerned classmates. In a whole different category were the trio of Gryffindors who seemed determined to get the answers they craved despite the detention they had received and the hefty amount of house points they had been docked.

The only other person, who had tried to visit Gaara that he knew of, was Draco Malfoy. He had also been turned away as Gaara was still deemed too injured to receive visitors; no matter how much Gaara himself denied this fact. As far as the tanuki-eyed boy was concerned, if he could walk, he was healed. Real shinobi didn't complain or stay in hospital with an almost mended broken leg and now only bruised arm, they got up and fought.

The only solace Gaara had was that his clothes had been returned to him, literally as good as new, the day before. However, on strict orders of the nurse, he was to remain in his hospital gown until he was released.

On the fifth day, he had been told that he was almost ready to be discharged and that he would be allowed out on the next day, which, he noticed, happened to be a Saturday.

Later that Friday night, the first visitor was admitted to see Gaara, mostly through blackmail and threats. From what Gaara could hear, Draco had threatened to send an owl to his father and have the nurse fired. Whilst Madam Pomfrey knew that even Lucius Malfoy couldn't have her fired, nor would Albus allow her to be harmed, she did respect the fact that the usually cold and distant Malfoy, who would often show nothing but malice to those he called 'friends', was now trying his hardest to see his newest acquaintance in their sick bed.

Poppy was not as cold-hearted as some of the others in the school, as she only saw a frail boy who had been hurt a lot in his life and needed help. That had been one of the largest reasons that she had been so insistent that the new student spend the majority of his first week in her care, as she could clearly see that not only were his unhealed injuries severe, but his previous ones were as well. He had numerous scars all over his body, not befitting a child of his age, and she couldn't stand to see him suffer anymore.

Gaara was actually pleased to see his sole peer acquaintance before him that night, having prayed to see just about anyone to alleviate his boredom, just short of Konoha's Green Beast. Draco took the chair next to Gaara's bed and moved it to the end so he could look directly at his peer, not willing to sit next to him like a commoner.

"I've tried to visit before but the stupid nurse wouldn't let me in. I swear, this is almost as bad as letting that bloody oaf teach Care of Magical Creatures." Draco said, riling himself up with just the thought. "I talked to my father and he said that he would have that idiot locked up. If he hadn't made you ride that bloody chicken, you wouldn't have fallen. And if it weren't for you, I might have lost my arm."

As much as Gaara disliked this form of communication, he decided it was necessary until he thought of a better one. The sand was already in a ball by the time Draco had noticed it was moving at all, and as he watched, the sand morphed into individual shapes, 'It wasn't his fault. Do not blame the groundskeeper.'

"What are you talking about? It was clearly his fault, by the time my fathe…" Draco trailed off, as he looked up at the new message written in sand.

'Placing blame is weak.'

Draco opened and closed his mouth in fury; being called weak was beyond ridiculous. He was the son of one of the most powerful men in the wizarding world; how could he be weak?

'The strong fight their own battles and never place blame, except with those who rightfully deserve it.'

This shut Malfoy up completely for a minute or two. Draco had never been told anything like this ever before. Sure, he had been called a wimp and a coward by Potter and his gang, but that was just them trying to insult him, wasn't it?

The inner tribulations continued until he broke his own train of thought with his latest mocking point for his nemesis. "I don't suppose you've heard, but that serial killer was spotted by Hogsmeade a few miles away." Draco began, and already Gaara was getting a bad feeling. "Yeah, Sirius Black's probably here to finish his job and kill Potter. Can't blame him."

Gaara grimaced, and almost face palmed, at the thought that Sirius had been spotted. Served him right, always going out for runs when he wasn't even hunting, it was only a matter of time.

"But that's not the weirdest thing." The Malfoy heir continued, "Crabbe and Goyle have both been avoiding me all week. Ever since they were let out of the hospital wing they've been acting terrified of me and won't come near me." If Gaara wasn't mistaken, he could swear he heard a little hurt in the platinum-blonde's voice.

The two conversed, albeit mostly one-sidedly, for the better part of an hour before the visitor was ushered out quite forcibly so that Gaara could have his last meal and sleep in the infirmary.

The last thing that they had talked about still echoed within both their minds long into the night due to the possible implications it held. Gaara had asked Draco, quite humbly in all of its written glory, if Draco could teach him the basics of spell casting.

Draco had been stunned that someone so clearly strong in so many ways would need help in basic magic. Gaara had explained half-heartedly that he had never used a wand before, having never needed to. Draco, still internally claiming to have no interest in such trivial matters as friendships, accepted the request under the pretence that it was merely because someone of his stature couldn't been seen to be alone all of the time and since his trusted goons had deserted him he needed a new companion.

Draco had offered his weekend to help Gaara train, having felt quite privileged, not a feeling he was unaccustomed to, to aid the boy who was clearly going to be a great wizard in no time. A perfect ally and a great example of his own abilities, to have taught a great wizard.

Gaara felt almost a sense of joy as he fell into his most deeply enjoyed state, at the thought that when he awoke, he would be free of the gatekeeper of the eighth-circle of hell, which had kept him in a perpetual state of boredom and half-death for the past week. Some might have claimed him to be melodramatic but he was a being who thrived on activity, having grown up as a warrior. It also didn't help that no matter how much he denied it, Gaara was influenced by the demon inside of him, only subtly but surely and Shukaku cried out for mischief.

* * *

Freedom; glorious freedom. Gaara literally ran out of the infirmary after he had been told he was allowed to leave, after he bowed to the woman who had cared for him. On his way out, after dressing, he strapped the sand back onto his back where it rightfully belonged before reforming his sand armour that had apparently been chiselled off of his body the night he had been admitted. The high-level shinobi had a little difficulty running, with the sand weighing him down, due to the healed broken bone. His leg, whilst almost completely fixed, was still sore and tender from its recent breakage so he was a little unsteady on his feet.

As soon as he had exited, he went straight to his room to find Draco. No matter how early in the morning it was, though it just happened to be just after six in the morning, Gaara was enough of a hard working ninja that he wasn't opposed to training near dawn. It was a new habit, the whole 'training' thing, but it seemed to help that guy with the bushy eye-brows so he decided that he would train until he was recognised; like _him_.

Draco, having had a long and boring first week back, had committed himself to a full morning's worth of sleep and relaxation followed by an hour or two of teaching Gaara how to use his wand in the evening. Draco was rich and privileged, used to a life of luxury, and he loved every second of it.

Gaara arrived back at the entrance of the Slytherin common room and stumbled across his first problem, the need to speak the password to gain entry. Gaara considered, briefly, the prospect of tunnelling through the entrance or one of the walls to get in, but decided against it as it would expose his sleeping quarters for the any intruder to just walk in. So, fighting his boredom once again, which had become a skill by this point, Gaara stood outside in the cold of the underbelly of the school for the next hour and a half, before one of the more studious teenagers had risen to get some breakfast on the first Saturday of the school year. The poor lad had almost fainted when he left his common room in the morning, expecting to see a handful of the other early risers out and about, only to find the scary new student, who had since been named Sabaku no Gaara, standing outside of the entrance of the Slytherin dorm in waiting. It was scary and Gaara didn't care as he walked past the frozen teen into the moderately warmer room to find his temporary sensei.

Draco hated many things: mud-bloods, Potter, Weasleys, Dumbledore, Potter, Divination, Hagrid, Potter, Crabbe & Goyle as of the past week, and Potter. But out of all of those insurmountable evils, the one thing Draco hated above all others was definitely being woken up early on his Saturday. When he was shaken, lightly, awake, he considered cursing the ghastly monster who would steal his precious time. But when he saw the ghastly monster, now identified as the recently released Gaara, he quickly decided against cursing the boy who was looking at him with something akin to disdain, if one was able to determine any emotional shift from the stoic face.

"What?" Draco said, not quite awake enough to put in place the proper etiquette required when talking with peers due to his tired state. "Go back to sleep if Pomfrey kicked you out of the hospital wing." commanded the Malfoy, as he turned over.

Gaara was not impressed to find someone whom he had respected, of all of the wizards he'd met, sleeping in so late and acting so grumpily in the morning, especially for a civilian; it wasn't as if he had to do any real work during the week.

Gaara assumed it would take a lot more to wake up the grouchy teen so he uncorked his sand and sent a tendril to sweep the young wizard off of his bed and onto the floor.

That woke him up.

"What is it that you need so early in the morning!" Draco had regained some of his proper composure after he swept himself off of the floor and wiped the sleep from his eyes, realising that he wouldn't be going back to sleep if the boy with the gourd had anything to do with it.

Gaara held up his wand and gave it a flick to gesture his desire to learn and practice its use. This earned a shocked and exasperated open-mouthed look from Draco who had assumed Gaara couldn't find his way to the dining room, or some other relatively normal problem, though, still not enough of a good reason to wake him up. To find out that the new student wanted to start leaning so early was like a ton of bricks falling on his head, make that two tons considering Draco agreed to tutor the boy in the first place.

"But it's seven-thirty in the morning!" Draco whined as he attempted futilely to get back into his warm and comfy bed, only to be pushed back onto his feet by the same sand tendril that he would curse until the day he died… or woke up fully.

Gaara gave him an even look before throwing Draco's clothes at him, the latter having laid them out next to his bed the night before so he would have even less work to do on his most holy of days.

Grumbling to himself the entire time, Draco dressed himself while Gaara considered whether or not he would need his throwing knives and exploding tags. A quick look back to Draco who had just fallen over in the process of entering his trousers confirmed his sufficiency with just the wand and his ever present sand.

Twenty minutes after entering the room, Gaara left with the slouching Draco following soon after at a slower pace. By the time they had reached the gigantic front door of the castle, Draco was walking in his usual snobbish way, the only sign of his discontent was the dark circles around his eyes and the almost silent mumblings to himself of how much he hated being awake.

As they walked, some of the Gaara fan-club, which had been watching the doors of the infirmary for the past week in hopes of seeing the release of their idol, were shocked to see Gaara and Draco walk right past them. Each night they were ushered away at curfew and each morning they would return anew until they had to get to a class. The few that were just making their way to the great hall for breakfast were amazed to see not only Gaara out and about, but Draco sporting the new must-have look: racoon-eyes. Pretty soon everyone would be using eye liner to achieve the insomniac look.

Draco didn't appreciate all of the looks and giggles he got as he made his way out of the castle and onto the grounds. He could have sworn he heard someone laugh at his eyes; it wasn't his fault he had bags under his eyes. He was tired. What he didn't hear was that they were talking about how even the great and mighty Draco was following Gaara.

The noble Slytherin had asked Gaara if they could go and have breakfast first but the other had shook his head and carried on. As far as Draco was concerned, this was not shaping up to be a good day. Tired, hungry and mocked; he was certainly having a terrible Saturday. Still, he supposed he would get to see a prodigy learn to use his wand.

They arrived at a secluded grassy area soon after leaving the gates of the castle, having trekked a little further than usual to avoid any prying eyes. Draco stood in front of Gaara and decided to start with what the obviously gifted exchange student knew.

"So, if I'm going to teach you, I need to know what you already know." Draco said, waiting to hear about all of the advanced spells the boy knew and what basic ones he had overlooked.

Gaara shrugged his shoulder, probably for the first time in his life.

Draco gaped.

It took a few minutes to regain full brain function after that startling confession. He had to be sure, "Are you saying you don't know anything about spell casting?" The incredulity in the older boy's voice was as obvious as his bright hair.

Gaara nodded his head, feeling their first warning signs of embarrassment coming on.

"Well…I guess we'll have to start with some of the most basic spells. Wait, how are you not able to use magic yet you come from a pureblood family?"

Again Gaara shrugged, which he imagined would be a time saver for the future.

"Never mind," Draco said, not fully believing what he was being told but, knowing that saying anything wouldn't do him any good. "In any case, one of the first spells we learnt here was the floating charm." Draco took out his wand and gestured for Gaara to do the same. "Now repeat after me: '_Wingardium Leviosa_'…" Draco said before catching his mistake and looking Gaara who looked back at him evenly, trying to hide his humour as he waited for his tutor to catch his mistake and realise that he couldn't speak much less copy his words. "…Sorry. I guess you'll just have to use non-verbal magic. Just imagine the words in your head and copy the wand movements. It takes greater control and a lot more skill but that shouldn't be a problem for you."

"So, imagine the words '_Wingardium Leviosa_' and at the same time, swish and flick your wand like this. _Wingardium Leviosa_." Draco demonstrated on a rock lying on the ground, levitating it into the air before his face before dropping the spell sending it plummeting back down to Earth.

Gaara watched with avid fascination at the simple trick, and then looked at his jet-black wand. Swish and flick, Gaara practiced the motion before focussing his intent on a rock the size of Hagrid's head a few feet away. '_Wingardium Leviosa_' He thought to himself as he focussed a small amount of chakra into the wand. Swish and flick.

The rock started to rise a foot or so in the air, Draco looking on in awe as the heavy object was lifted without even the smallest sign of strain from the caster. The boulder was at eye level and Gaara hadn't even blinked in exertion, however, the rock started to shake precariously at which point Draco thought that even holding it so long was admirable. But soon after the shaking started there was an almighty explosion as the rock blew up right in their faces. Fortunately, like always, the sand shield protected Gaara automatically, only needing a little extra chakra to extend its protection to his friend.

"Why the bloody hell did you do that?" Screamed Draco, checking himself over for splinters and fragments of stone.

Another shrug was Gaara's honest answer, as he had done exactly what he had been told. He turned to his left and lifted his wand again, aiming for a rock further away this time and supplying as little chakra as he could. He repeated the spell and the effect was as violent as before

"Are you sure you're saying the right spell in your head?" Draco asked looked almost accusingly at his pupil who looked a little sheepish even when he nodded. It wasn't like Gaara to act sheepish but the entire experience of spell casting had been humbling, even if it was only the two instances.

"Okay, maybe we should try something a little easier." The Platinum-blonde said, trying to think of the simplest spell he knew. The problem was, he couldn't think of anything simpler than the floating charm. Even near-squibs like Longbottom could cast it. "Aha!" Cried Draco, the finger that had been resting on his chin was now pointing into the air in triumph. "Try the _Lumos_ spell." Draco said in happiness. Whilst the spell was a third year level, it was remarkably easy to perform and required very little magic to get at least a small glimmer of light.

Draco demonstrated, saying that Gaara should put as much magic as he could, into the magic to see what his power level was.

Gaara, not seeing any problem with gauging the level of his 'magic', copied the motion and forced his vast amounts of chakra into the strong black wood. Both of the teens had expected a similar or smaller ball of light than Draco's, Gaara assuming that one needed more chakra to perform a spell than a jutsu. The outcome was unexpected. The ball of light was blindingly white, like a sun at the end of his wand that starkly contrasted the black of the wand itself. The flash didn't last long, having been cancelled by Gaara's lack of concentration when he went to shield his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco was absolutely fuming at the problems he was facing. "How did you do that with a simple _Lumos _spell?" The fact that Gaara's light spell was so bright wasn't the issue, most wizards could perform one that luminous, but to do so during the day with the sun high in the sky was beyond imagining.

"This time, put as little power as you can into it…"

The lesson wore on all day and stopped only when the hunger-driven stomach cramps became too much for the young pureblood. So much for his perfect Saturday…

The next day followed much the same pattern, with Draco trying, desperately; to teach Gaara to control his magic and power-down his spells, that seemed far too powerful for an untrained wizard. By the end of the second day, with so much blood and sweat put into it, the Malfoy child was close to tears of happiness, when Gaara was able to levitate a small rock without blowing it up for the first time.

The rock hit the ground, however, when the tanuki-host's attention was drawn to the crowd of people, standing all around them at quite a distance, started clapping and cheering at the, supposedly private, achievement. Now, Gaara was no stranger to the odd compliment or crowd of fans every once in a while, ever since the Konoha vs. Suna conflict; but when he saw one characteristic in many of the observers, he started to run, hoping that Draco would follow. The terrifying characteristic, shared by many people within the audience were a pair of drawn on black rings around their eyes, similar to the ones Gaara was born with, though he would always vehemently deny that he was born with the racoon look, in favour of the insomniac-excuse.

He would not stand idle as the swarm of fangirls descended upon him and his teacher/friend, so he ran for his life and for his sanity.

When they finally came to a stop, safe within the confines of the Slytherin dorms, Draco panted heavily before asking "Who were they?"

Deeming this a serious enough question to answer, Gaara wrote out one word, simple enough, in sand, 'Fangirls.'

"Enough said."

That night, Draco slept like a baby, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to sleep past seven o'clock next weekend. Gaara, on the other hand, was hoping that none of his lessons would call on him to do any high calibre spells for a while, at least until he was able to control his power better.

* * *

The next morning was a slow Monday start, everyone trying to get out of bed before they were swallowed by their covers and forced to stay in all day; which, as tempting as a day in bed sounded, was unlikely to please their irritable head of house, who had been in an extra bad mood this year. The roommates with hairs as red as blood and as bright as the sun, were just as slow to rise as everybody else. Draco being the normal teenager he was, no matter how much he denied, it couldn't find the exit to his bed no matter how hard he looked. And Gaara was sure he'd forgotten how to stand up, but wasn't willing to test his theory for another hour or so. Eventually, after another ten minutes of refusing to accept the reality that they would be getting up, both did rise to the occasion when they realised that the lesson they would be late for, permitting they had stuck with the original plan of skiving, would be Potions with Professor Snape. It wasn't like Gaara was afraid of the man, as he had pretty much proven he could defend himself against the man's spells, but he did respect that the man was his teacher for the time being and wasn't willing to show that much disrespect, especially when he had covered the potions lab with slime the week before.

Breakfast was an uneventful meal, being that everyone involved was either too tired or studious to bother anybody else at that time in the morning. As they ate breakfast, Gaara saw Remus Lupin enter the back entrance to the great hall looking as sickly and pale as ever, which he could sympathize with. However, he had some business with the acquaintance that couldn't wait much longer. He waited patiently for Remus' eyes to look at him, during the teacher's surveillance of the Great Hall, at which time he gestured for Lupin to meet him outside with a stiff head nod.

Outside of the hall, Lupin looked around as he exited the giant wooden doors, finding the boy he was looking for in one of the many nooks the castle had; the perfect place for secret meeting of a less than reputable nature.

"Good morning Gaara. I'm glad to see you're doing well. I wanted to come and see you in the hospital but I wasn't in the best health myself." Lupin looked ashamed by his neglect of his obligations, which Gaara thought was an overreaction but didn't dwell on something so insignificant.

'What is Sirius doing?' Gaara sand had zoomed out before the older of the two had even noticed. It was amazing how easily people in the wizarding world adapted to change despite their apparently ancient customs.

"I imagine you are referring to the sighting a few days ago." Lupin suddenly looked even more tired at the thought of their mutual friend's antics. "I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet but I assume he was merely bored. Always was an impulsive person. Caused unimaginable trouble for the four of us…" Gaara tuned out again as the tales of the stories about Lupin's childhood sprang up.

When Lupin had finished explaining something about a stink bomb, Fanged-Frisbee and an unfortunately placed family heirloom, Gaara turned back in and asked his next question, 'When can I see _him_?'

"There is a trip to Hogsmeade coming up soon, you can use it for cover and meet up with him then. You're going to have to sneak out of the castle, though, as you don't have your permission slip signed." The man said looking thoughtful. He had to think of which passage for Gaara to take that would be the least risky. The Whomping Willow route seemed a little risky for the boy, him being so small and frail looking. On the other hand, he was more than proficient with his sand and he had heard rumours that the boy had seriously powerful magic as well, if only a little unrefined. A few teachers had started to watch Gaara's lessons along with the students after the numerous explosions the day before. "The passage you should take is out by-"

"Mister Gaara, I do believe you're going to be late for my class; you'd better get going." Snape interrupted with the haughty look of derision that seemed as common place on his face as the look of illness of Remus'. "And Remus, are you determined to corrupt an already detestable child. You," He turned to Gaara with nothing less than pure contempt, "get to lesson before I give you enough detentions that by the time you leave, you'll, at last, be the same height as a six year old."

Gaara, in no mood to stay and listen to more ranting from the hateable man, walked calmly away, calling his sand back into its proper resting place.

"You had better be getting to your class too, Remus." Severus sneered. His triumphant look of superiority over the secret werewolf was cut down to size when he noticed Lupin looking elsewhere. The man leaned out into the hallway, past Snape's bewildered face, and called out to the retreating gourd/back of Gaara, "See you later Lily!"

Lupin then walked off without even looking at Severus' enraged face, and onto his first class of the day. First years... too easy.

* * *

Class went better than the week before, Gaara managing to stay until the end of the lesson this time without destroying anything larger than a cauldron and a cauldron sized section of a desk. Though, if Snape seemed irritable before his encounter with his old school rival, he was utterly ferocious after.

Fortunately, the rest of the day was more agreeable to all those involved after the unpleasant Potions class. Even Care of Magical Creatures was a happier experience for Gaara, though it would have been difficult for him to have had a worse time in the class considering the precedent set last week. They observed a herd of unicorns, which seemed a little too fond of Gaara for his liking, as they relentlessly followed him around despite his silent protests and urges to use deadly force on them.

The next day was worse than the day before but still much better than almost dying from falling hundreds of feet onto the forest floor and hitting every tree branch on the way down. Gaara had to work through a third year charms class with no magical talent and far too much raw power. Suffice to say, that he was averaging one classroom destroyed per week so far this term.

* * *

"Can anybody tell me what is inside of this wardrobe?" Lupin asked his third year Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

"It's a Boggart, sir." Hermione Granger piped up, surprising several students with her sudden unexpected presence there.

"And can anybody tell me what a Boggart looks like?" The natural teacher again questioned his students as he looked at the faces around the room; Potter, check, Malfoy, check, Weasley, check, Granger, check, Lily, check, and check. All of the key players were there and ready. They were vital as they were all important to him in one way or another, if only by association. The week before had just been introductions to the class and the syllabus, so this week was the first real test of his teaching ability.

"Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like, as they assume the form of whatever the person closest to them fears the most." Again, Granger answered, reciting her perfect knowledge of most academia flawlessly.

"Correct!" Lupin announced, pleased that there was some base knowledge floating around in the pool of young minds. "There is a very simple way to defeat a Boggart, laughter."

The lesson continued as the Slytherins listened as raptly as everyone else, only when they heard they would be facing one of the monsters themselves. Gaara was genuinely interested about what some of his so-called peers were most deeply afraid of, himself included. As well as Gaara thought he knew himself, he honestly couldn't tell what his greatest fear would be. Though he had a big sand-monster-hunch as to what it could be.

Gaara thoughts were disturbed by the gramophone starting up, with a jazzy tune that sent the students into a rhythm as they lined up and began to face their fears, cast the '_Riddikulus_' spell and laugh the monster into submission ready for the next person.

Gaara was standing behind Draco and in front of a handful of Gryffindors, which he was silently thankful for as he was actually looking forward to facing the one-tailed beast, and he knew that if Harry Potter were to have his go first, then a certain infamous Dark Lord might appear and that would just ruin the lesson for the rest of the class.

Next up was Draco who looked nervous, which was turned into terror when the Boggart turned into the one person he feared the most: his father. The tall and strict looking man wore sharp robes and held an even sharper cane, scowling at Draco the whole time. Soon enough the man was walking quickly forwards, towards a stunned Draco. The son was so afraid that he couldn't bring himself to raise his wand against his father, even when the father raised his cane, ready to strike him around the face.

Gaara surveyed the room and found half the class afraid, Slytherins, and half the class with looks of hatred, the Gryffindors. It seemed Boggarts were nothing if not informative.

"Draco, you know the spell." Lupin said encouragingly, ready to step in if necessary.

"_Riddi-Riddik-Riddikulus_" The defending boy stammered, still not able to pull off the charm. Gaara, deciding he wasn't willing to see his friend's father hit his friend in the face with the cane, no matter how funny it may have been, pushed passed the quivering teen to face his fear and beat the sand out of it.

The Boggart shivered before jumping into the air and started to spasm and shift before him. The shape that was left over after the change landed back on the floor surprisingly softly, making black rimmed eyes widen. Gaara's mouth opened and the slightest whisper met the ears of others around the room, indiscriminate to merely a whimper at the sight of…

To be continued.

* * *

Omake:

Madam Pomfrey had been the nurse at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for many, many years now; more years than she would like to admit. And, in all of the years that she had been tending to the sick and injured of the student body, she had never had so much trouble as she had had with Sabaku no Gaara. Well, other than the occasional escape attempt, as amicable as they were, he was as silent as a mouse the rest of the time. However well behaved Gaara may have been under her care, the fan-club that was stalking and harassing him was not so nice.

There had been ten times as many break-in attempts as there had been breakouts in the past week. She was tired, having to defend from the rampant fandom that had spread like wildfire from the silent mysterious red-haired teen.

It was after the fourth day that she finally started hexing the students who broke her perimeter; they weren't injured before they got into the infirmary but they would be by the time they left. She only treated the students who needed immediate care or were polite; sadly it was almost always the former, Gaara being a rare example of the latter.

The mute teenager's manners were the main reason she had insisted on keeping him so much longer than necessary in her care. The other reason was that he was so small and thin; she couldn't help but fuss over him, especially when he denied his need of her help so vehemently.

Still, when she had to let Gaara go, due to Albus, Remus and Minerva's insistence, she was sure to let Molly Weasley know about Gaara. She could not watch Gaara when he was outside of Hogwarts, wherever he would go, but she knew Mrs Weasley, whom she had several dealings with previously regarding Mrs Weasley's unruly children, would certainly.

On his way out, making a new record for quickest escape from a hospital, Gaara bowed in his ever-silent thanks.

Pomfrey looked around and shed a little tear… as she surveyed the damages done by the fangirls coupled with the copious amounts of sand all over the place. He was such a nice lad but so very messy.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the cliff-hanger but it seemed like the right time to do it. Also I hope you like the omake. I might do more, I'm not sure. Well, till next time and all that jazz.


	4. Chapter 4: A New Perspective

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction.

A/N: I was looking at the older chapters the other day, and I realised that they didn't contain page-breakers. I've since rectified the problem but it's irritating that they were absent. It kinda messed up the flow of the story as I'd written it.

More importantly, I would like to thank all of the wonderful reviewers, as they are the driving force that spurs me on to write this fiction. That was why my last update was on Christmas Eve, so that I could enjoy some nice new reviews on Christmas Day; so, for all of those reviewers, thanks for the Christmas present.

One reviewer I want to thank specially, is the reviewer 'Awesome', for his sand clone idea which I did end up using in this chapter.

Finally, I want to apologize for the never-ending cliff-hangers. I just like to leave off with some suspense. Oh, and one more thing, only one person guessed the Boggart correctly. So, well done you.. I hope you enjoy and so forth.

* * *

(Last Time)

_The Boggart shivered before jumping into the air and started to spasm and shift before him. The shape that was left over after the change landed back on the floor surprisingly softly, making black rimmed eyes widen. Gaara's mouth opened and the slightest whisper met the ears of others around the room, indiscriminate to merely a whimper at the sight of…_

* * *

Sabaku no Gaara stood stock-still as he stared into the eyes of the newly formed Boggart that was slowly stepping towards him in the leisurely manner that one might expect from a carefree visitor on a light afternoon stroll, except, the Boggart had a much more sinister purpose in its stride as it approached Gaara; walking directly at the trembling shinobi who hadn't moved an inch since the monster's terrible formation.

To the many fascinated observers of the event, they mightn't have understood Gaara's deep rooted despair at the sight of the approaching figure, having not heard of the boy's sordid past, but even they, as fickle as the student body could be, were aware of the terror within the Gaara's usually opaque eyes. The approaching human shape was certainly not what they had expected from the previously fantastical exchange student's Boggart but nonetheless they watched it raptly.

The human shape, apparently a woman, had reached her destination with a gentle smile upon her face. Gaara's wide eyes couldn't even blink at the face of Karura, whom he had only seen in photographs and yet, she had had the most profound of consequences on his life.

Sabaku no Karura, Gaara's mother.

Of all of the figures and scenarios within the demon host's memory, he had never imagined that she would be the fear he was shown. It wasn't that he didn't understand the horror he was feeling; he had just been so terrified of the mere thought, that he just couldn't comprehend it.

The Boggart with the delicate woman's face bent down and hugged the rigid shinobi, hands weaving around his petite form with seemingly practiced ease. Gaara wasn't in the state of mind one might expect from a child being reunited with their dead mother, and for good reason soon revealed. The Boggart was in fact, a manifestation of one's fears based upon that person's ideas and perceptions. In essence, Gaara's mother was there because he was afraid of the idea of her being there, because he had always known exactly what she would say to him, deep down in his heart.

"Professor, who is that?" Hermione whispered, concerned that the dangerous creature that she had watched transform into the various grotesqueries of the human mind, was now hugging the clearly uncomfortable, if not afraid, red-headed boy.

"I don't know… I've never seen her before." Lupin was truthfully bewildered by the unusual behaviour of the Boggart that was leaning in to Gaara's ear and whispering something to him. At the first sign of trouble or danger, he would intervene and stop the creature, even if he had to reveal his own fear in doing so, but until then he would wait and see what happened. It wasn't like Lupin to endanger a friend for the sake of his curiosity; however, he was ashamed to admit that even he was wary of the student whom had appeared in a flurry of sand and intrigue.

Gaara wasn't nearly as aware as his classmates, his eyes only registering almost grey hair covering his vision like a veil of misty uncertainty, bad memories and despicable motives. The hug, that had started so lovingly, had turned into a desperate clutching as the fake started to whisper into his ear disturbing things that he knew to be true and yet had still shied away from.

"My little Gaara, my beautiful little Gaara. You've been such a naughty child, not killing anyone... You know that's your purpose; you are a tool for genocide. That's why I gave you your name." The Boggart Karura sung caringly into Gaara's ear, describing all of his worst insecurities and destabilizing his only recently formed sanity at its very core.

'No, no, no!' Gaara howled inside of his head, furiously wishing he could scream that denial at the top of his lungs.

"It's okay now, my Gaara. Your mother will take care of you now; we'll kill them all together. We'll keep on killing until you and I are the only two left." The Boggart, whom Gaara had forgotten was merely an echo of truth, was now in front of his face, staring into his eyes with all of the love he had been denied throughout his childhood. The worst part was that during the disturbing speech, in which he could hear Shukaku literally shrieking in agreement, he truly wanted to please her.

He felt so very happy in the warm embrace of his mother. It wasn't like Gaara to lose track of himself so easily, especially since he had separated his mind from the Ichibi's, but the emotional blowback of the encounter was draining all of his self control until he was nothing more than the weapon he had strived so hard to distance himself from.

"I love you so much Gaara, I always have, despite what your father did to us. I always loved you." Karura, although fake, pulled Gaara to her chest and finally he succumbed and encircled his smaller arms around her, clinging to his mother's breast and wishing it never had to end, wishing that he didn't have to kill again but knowing he had no choice. Gaara closed his eyes, preparing for the attack that he was about to make, knowing how much it was going to hurt him later, he steeled himself for the kill.

"You know what you have to do, Gaara. Do it for your mother." She whispered as the cork on the gourd popped off and dispersed into more sand, joined by the large amounts now flowing freely out of the container.

'Yes, mother.' Gaara could only whisper in his own head as he flexed his control of the tendril, which had hardened enough to pierce even the strongest defence, not that it would have to.

The witches and wizards present couldn't help but tense as the tentacle waved around the embracing pair, all still perplexed by the entire situation. A sense of danger radiated from the scene, enough so that even the most dim-witted teenager could feel the impending violence on an instinctual level.

'Yes, mother.' Gaara repeated, Shukaku's screams becoming almost deafening as he struck.

Hermione gasped, as the sand spear pierced the female chest, one that belonged to a woman who looked both unsurprised and thankful for the aggression. The young witch thought she saw a resemblance to Gaara in the pale woman's face but was in no state of mind to dwell on such details when he had attacked said woman seemingly unprovoked. She had to remind herself, as did all of the students that it wasn't really a person they were seeing impaled, no matter how real the blood appeared, but a Boggart.

Everyone watched as the now limp form fell gently onto Gaara, who was holding her against him, the roles reversed as she leaned her head from his shoulder slightly to whisper one last thing.

All present saw the Boggart speak a dying message to Gaara, and yet no one could make out a single word. All anyone could discern was that whatever she had told him, it brought a smile to Gaara's face, as he silently thought in reply, 'I know.'

No one moved, no one spoke; the entire class was frozen as Gaara moved the body of the, now dead, Boggart to the floor, still maintaining the sad and yet so very sincere smile that didn't hold the same apathy or loathing that his previous facial expressions had held; no, this was a transcendental smile that had never been seen before and was seldom seen again by the residents of Hogwarts.

The sand was recalled into its resting place as the owner turned away from his peers and walked out of the classroom. The body of the Boggart started to spasm before exploding in a cloud of smoke, leaving nothing behind but bad memories and startled third years.

Not a soul saw Gaara for several hours after the incident, and, by no coincidence, not one person saw him shed a single tear that night.

* * *

Like all good rumours, the story of Gaara's encounter with the Boggart had spread within the first ten minutes to all four corners and houses of Hogwarts; not even the teachers were spared from the gossiping as they too chattered amongst themselves about the strange and disconcerting student who had become even more interesting than their resident miracle maker, Harry Potter, who'd had a fairly mundane start to the school year by comparison despite the dementor attack.

The centre of attention had become even more reserved than before, after his last Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, if that were even possible. Lupin was just thankful for two things: no students had been hurt, and he hadn't had his classroom destroyed like the teacher's poll would have suggested. There had been five-to-one odds that he would be teaching outside for the rest of the week. Fortunately, Lupin had had enough faith in Gaara to bet on his classroom's survival, and had made a killing as a result.

The only teacher exempt from such rumour milling and gossip mongering was the ever-stoic and hate filled Severus Snape, whom had, at first, listened to the various accounts of the story before distancing himself from the matter entirely after the truth had turned to exaggeration and lies from the Chinese-whispers that were being relayed to him.

Dumbledore had tried in earnest to resolve the issue by confronting it again, to little effect. It seemed that the matter was of a sensitive and personal nature to Gaara as all questions either met a glare or feigned preoccupation. Albus had decided, before his questioning, that he wouldn't suggest any of his theories to Gaara, as, if he was wrong, or if he was right, it might end dangerously. He knew he had an upset teenager on his hands and the last thing he needed was an angry student who scared him more than he would ever like to admit. The only solace that the aged and wised man could take was that Gaara had been grounded to some level social norms by his apparent friendship with Draco Malfoy, though the term 'friend' wasn't really all that suitable considering the red-head's continuing distance and overall antisocial nature. The professor wasn't all too sure whether he should be concerned over the two teens bonding or not. He would have to wait and see, after all, he still had his contacts at the ministry to fall back on if matters grew out of his control, no matter how much he wished to avoid that instance.

The platinum-blonde nobility of the Slytherin house had managed, with some considerable effort, to keep regular contact with his roommate after the fiasco of a few days prior that had threatened to sever what little connection he had to the boy he now considered to be his, for lack of a better term, friend. To that end, he had practically dragged the silent and sombre boy to the first-year flying lessons that Gaara had not had the benefit of attending two years previously; he had been elsewhere at the time, apparently.

When Gaara had first learnt of the wizarding hobby of riding broomsticks, he had decided that witches and wizards were crazy. It wasn't that Gaara doubted Sirius when he had mentioned flying cleaning equipment, after all, the young shinobi had heard of much stranger methods of travel in his own world, but the concept of actually using the method of transport on a regular basis, and for fun, seemed ludicrous.

It hadn't been a fortnight since his fall from the much sturdier magical flying creature, and it had had a profound effect on Gaara's trust in the wizarding community's sense of self preservation when it came to their flying implements. Suffice to say, Gaara was not going to be getting on one of those waiting concussions.

So, when the red-haired teenager found himself straddling the wooden broom, he questioned just how persuasive his roommate really was. He looked to his left and saw Draco had a thin smile set upon his lips, though, it was much happier than his previously malicious ones that had been a regular sight for the new student. To his right, Gaara saw the thirty-or-so first years all holding their brooms as tightly and fearfully as the seasoned killing-machine. It would have been a lie to say that said killing-machine wasn't embarrassed about his skittishness, but after the time he'd been having recently, he wasn't in any mood to let pride take charge in place of safety.

However, despite his housemate's heavy protests against the decision, Gaara had adamantly refused to leave his sand-filled gourd on the ground. It wasn't that he was afraid it would be broken again, after all, he could fix it almost instantaneously, but he definitely wasn't going to fall from such a height again any time soon without the protection of his trusted lifeline.

The entire subject of Gaara's inability to ride a broom had been raised when the related subject of Quidditch had been brought up with as much enthusiasm as Gaara had ever seen someone so stoic as Draco use. The pureblood had been absolutely engrossed by the topic, wherein he had gone into great detail on the wonders of not only amateur playing but also the professional sport. Gaara really did regret shaking his head when asked if he had played the game before, leading to Draco, incredulous at the admittance, asking if Gaara even knew how to ride a broom.

The young wizard didn't know what was true anymore, having been informed that the supposed pureblood didn't know the most basic of skills that he himself had been taught at age seven. What perplexed the haughty noble the most was that even though he had doubts about Gaara's birth status, that didn't dissuade him from pursuing a friendship with the boy. It just didn't make sense to Draco, who had been raised with only the concept of social climbing as a reason to bond with peers.

It was a strange coincidence that not only Draco but Gaara also was feeling the odd sensation of an impending companionship. It was the real reason he had agreed to risking his life on the insanity that passed for wizarding pastimes. If it had been any other person, he would have flat-out refused, but with Draco he felt a tinge of guilt. As an unexpected side-effect of Gaara's proximity to Draco, more than just Crabbe & Goyle had deserted him as the entire school had begun to give the platinum-blonde the same wide-birth as himself. Whilst he knew it would be beneficial in the long run, to remove the multitude prejudiced and discriminatory purebloods who would spit on you as soon as look at you; however it did not escape the shinobi's notice that since he had been shunned from all of his social circles and left alone, Draco had begun to hang around him a lot more. It pained Gaara to know that he was the cause of someone else's pain and loneliness, especially someone like Draco who, despite his dark upbringing, was a genuinely good person, if a little abrasive and misled at times.

Brought back to his current predicament by a tap on the shoulder, Gaara turned to see Draco looking predictably peeved at being ignored for the last few minutes. The pale boy had been asking about Gaara's past again, only for the sake of learning more of his acquaintance, rather than for any more sinister reasons. Still, when he had been completely blanked by the mute mystery, he had become quite perturbed.

This had been yet another proof of Draco's inner goodness. That he was actually able to approach and touch Gaara on the shoulder showed that he had no evil intentions, or at least he had no killing intent towards Gaara. That had been why Yashamaru had never been able to get close enough to kill Gaara when he was a child, having to resort to more forceful methods in place of subterfuge. Shaking off morbid thoughts of the past, Gaara paid attention to Madam Hooch, who had begun her beginner's guide to flying. She hadn't really acknowledged the third years' presences in her class as she knew how much of a hassle a Malfoy could be when angered, and that would only spell annoyance for her later on; besides, she had also succumbed to the puzzle of the transfer student and was genuinely curious as to whether he would be able to fly after the stories of his magical ineptitude had circulated the staff table during dinnertime.

Following the provided instructions, both teens kicked off of the ground, one of them half-expecting to fall straight back down onto his knees, only to be surprised to find he was floating a foot or two over the grass on the wooden shaft of the broom.

Draco then leaned over and said "Come on, let's leave these kiddies and go do some real flying." The pure mirth in the boy's voice was enough to convince the unsteady ninja to follow slowly on his broom, away from the group of bewildered first years who had been expecting them to stay for more than the first five minutes. Truthfully, Draco had only encouraged Gaara to come to the first years' lesson because he thought it was the only way he could make the terrified Jinchuriki think it would be safe to leave terra firma.

They hovered around to the back of the school, Gaara having little to no clue where he was being led, save for the inkling that the destination was going to require a life threatening lesson. The tanuki-boy's expectations were proven true when he laid his large eyes on the gigantic stadium before him. It was close to the size of the Chunin-exam stadium, but it was far larger in terms of airspace. The grass pitch at the bottom looked like it had seldom been stood on before, which could very well have been true considering that the majority of time spent in Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch was spent on a broom in the sky. The towering wooden structures, ready to house the teaching staff and guests of the school, were still bare and without covering as the year had only just begun and the first match of the season was still more than a month away.

They each floated into the middle of the expansive area before Draco began to fly around a little more energetically, losing the patience that was so desperately needed to get Gaara to go higher than a few feet.

Calming slightly when he acknowledged his own immature behaviour, Draco dropped back down to eye level and started to goad the off-worlder into going higher, continuing his immaturity, though now acknowledged and accepted, to which, at first, Gaara merely refused, having no intention of killing himself. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights, it was just the methods in which he reached them that set him on edge.

Eventually, Gaara caved into the incessant whining that had turned from gentle persuasion to childish teasing. Ashamedly, Gaara succumbed to the childish form of coercion as he pulled upwards on the end of the wooden pole. Unfortunately, there had been an oversight on Gaara's part that Draco had also failed to notice; that being the large gourd, equal in size to Gaara himself, and filled to the brim with ground up rocks, was far too heavy for any broom to lift, magical or no. Gaara had tried to fly straight upwards upon his roommate's example but had only reached the staggering altitude of five feet before beginning to tip backwards and fall.

The object that had single-handedly doomed the ascension was also the object that saved the participant from doing a number on his recently healed tail bone. The sand burst from the container with lightning speed to cushion the, albeit minor yet still unpleasantly nostalgic, descent. Thanks to the blanket of golden granules under his back, Gaara had barely even felt the impact and was moving back to his feet again momentarily.

"Take that…thing off, and try again." Draco said; coming back down like the proverbial yoyo he seemed to be imitating as of the past few minutes. The Slytherin seeker had stumbled on his description of the gourd which, to his dismay, remained an ongoing enigma to him. He had tried on several occasions, even more so after the Boggart-incident, to discover something, anything about Gaara but the only thing he had managed to rip from the clutches of Gaara's paranoia was that the boy had been a 'Shinobi' where he came from and that they excelled in wandless magic. What a shinobi was, and the infinite number of other unanswered questions still plagued the forefront of Malfoy's mind.

Gaara shook his head, not willing to entertain the thought of riding the broom, which had already proven itself to be unsafe in his mind, without his protection. Gaara looked down at the borrowed broom in his hand, a far cry from Draco's Nimbus 2001, the end fraying and the length looking ready to buckle under a normal student's weight, much less his considerable bulk when including the mass of the sand on his back. The boy himself, being of a rather diminutive stature, weighed very little, not that he would ever admit any such weaknesses. The tiny Jinchuriki threw the broom off to the side petulantly when his patience ran thin, though he was careful not to put too much force behind his throw as to break the tool, as it was not his safety-hazard to break.

Before he could leave Draco to calm down over the next few hours, said flying teen made his last effort to persuade his associate to stay, "Come on, don't be such a coward."

Refusing to rise again to such an obvious jibe at his otherwise proud demeanour, Gaara started to walk away, having no further reason to stay. He was sure he would reconcile with his bed-neighbour at some point, but for the moment he was a little too…mad? Embarrassed? He wasn't sure what he was feeling at being called out, regarding his apparent fear of flying by wizarding means. Still, it was understandable that after the weeks he'd had, including no less than three falls, he developed a fear of a reoccurrence. Admittedly, the first had been due to an unknown kinjutsu and he'd been close to unconscious at the time and the third had been a few feet into soft sand, but the fact remained that his phobia seemed to have ingrained itself.

As Gaara was exiting through one of the various holes in the border of the stadium's perimeter, he heard the rushing of wind behind him. Not an unfamiliar sound, almost reminiscent of his home; the tanuki-host turned to see Draco whizzing around through the air at break-neck speeds. What really caught his attention was the look on his face. Unlike most, who would have just seen a blur in place of the flying-nobility, Gaara's trained eyes caught sight of the unbridled joy on Malfoy's face, Gaara's earlier rebuffing of him notwithstanding. Draco seemed to have overcome his crippling loneliness as he soared freely, seemingly finding some measure of contentment that Gaara himself was relatively unfamiliar with and yet could still empathise fully with the sentiment.

Gaara was well aware of the mask that Draco had been forced to wear for many years and as such, any emotion or action was fiercely guarded. So, for Draco to smile and reveal such happiness whilst unaware of being observed meant that it was at least genuine. Most of the time, when Draco didn't know he was being watched, he would usually just scowl and work, but this was a sure sign that the potentially evil child had at least an escape from his villainy.

An idea formed in Gaara's mind, and, to even his surprise, it wasn't about murdering or maiming the winner of the 'Hogwarts-Greasiest-Professor' award. Pushing through his reservations on the thought of doing anymore flying in this world, Gaara called out his sand platform, using all of it to make a sturdy surface for him to stand on as he was carried upwards and back onto the Quidditch field.

Draco was shocked to see his roommate return after his dramatic exit only a few minutes prior, immediately changing his facial expression to a more socially acceptable one of a slight frown; a tiny improvement upon his usual downright scowl but a telltale sign of happiness for the returning ninja to spot.

The broom riding teen cast a casual glance towards Gaara's preferred form of transportation before disregarding it as another of the scary roommate's eccentricities, plus, he would rather enjoy flying than spend the next half-hour trying to question the stony individual about matters that would most probably be left unanswered. Draco rose higher and together they swooped through the air; though even to Draco who was still in firm denial about his own enjoyment, he was definitely the happier of the two, as shown by Gaara's continuingly blank expression. After all, ninjas spent a lot of their times flying through the air, Gaara would rather not be spending his time working but it made the closest relation he had in the school more cheerful, which in turn might prevent him from trying to subject others to his misery so it seemed like a worthwhile irritant if nothing else.

Eventually, after a lengthy flight, Draco conjured up a basketball sized chunk of wood, named a 'Quaffle', which they passed between them in a miniature game of Quidditch. Predictably, Draco won by no less than one-hundred points because of his much faster vehicle and Gaara's not-so-secret lack of interest. By the time they had finished their game and landed, it was already time for dinner, leading both shinobi and wizard to hasten their gait in fear of one of two things. For Draco, it was the fear of dementors roaming the grounds at night, and for Gaara it was the threat of having to listen to his detestable potions teacher and head of house lecture him on not being a nuisance to good students, like he had had to on many an occasion.

Fortunately, both the late comers were able to sneak into the Great Hall unnoticed when a mysterious explosion of smoke filled the hall; luckily, the two apparent perpetrators, by the name of Fred and George Weasley, who vehemently denied the offence, were promptly caught and reprimanded.

Draco didn't question their good luck; he just sat down quietly along with his silent associate and started eating whilst said associate closed his discreet weapons pouch.

Gaara bitterly observed that there was at least a metre between either of the two outcasts and any of their supposed housemates, and even the closest to them looked a mixture of fear and loathing. All Gaara needed now was an attempt on his life and it would be as good as home.

* * *

Days were inevitably tough when you were a cursed demon-container trapped in a foreign world, alone, unable to speak and stuck in a magical school where, in under a month, you had become the local pariah and gossip fodder. As such, the resident tanuki-host was having a pretty hard time throughout his school days, which was not helped by his continuing difficulties controlling his magical outbursts that had destroyed three and a half classrooms, and so, was disallowed from practicing magic in certain lessons like transfiguration. McGonagall had stated that it was difficult enough to ensure the safety of the animal participants when teaching her subject and, frankly, the idea of Gaara pointing his wand at anything living terrified her.

One of the few lessons that Gaara had been spared any major adversity in was Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, the littlest recovering serial killer suspected that this was solely down to the secret mutual friend he shared with his teacher. Still, in the rare practical lessons, no one, including Draco Malfoy, was brave enough or stupid enough to practice with or against the walking wrecking crew. When Gaara had tried to cast the disarming spell on a practice dummy a few days before, he had completely destroyed not only his inanimate opponent but at least five others in the immediate vicinity.

Still, Gaara preferred his embarrassing inability in magic to the soul-destroyingly boring theory lessons where he was forced to listen to the endless lectures that even he, with his ninja-honed focus, struggled to keep his attention directed at the front of the room where it belonged instead of the increasingly interesting tree-shaped cloud outside of the window.

Despite his immense enjoyment of books and of reading, the youngest sand-sibling was no more an academic than he was a ramen enthusiast, which had come to be a problem in the past, in situations like the first part of the Chunin exams; but that was what being a ninja with a floating third-eye was all about.

The surprisingly relaxed student had actually surrendered in the battle against History of Magic. He just couldn't stay awake in the most boring experience he had ever been forced to attend, so he had taken to replacing himself with a sedimentary sand-clone in a sleeping position on his desk whilst he explored more of the enormous castle. Surprisingly, even after several weeks, Draco had yet to notice that the red-head lying beside him was completely hollow and made out of sand. He would replace the sand-clone with himself at the end of the torturous lesson and no one was any the wiser.

The only reason he had been able to avoid any unnecessary adversity from his ignorance and inexperience was because of his steadfast reading around his subjects; that, and the teachers were still a little too intimidated by the scariest Slytherin in recent years to risk aggravating him. Even after Snape had been forced to disallow Gaara's participation in any and all class practical activities, he had yet to give a single detention, as the notion of spending an extra few hours alone with the psychopathic-looking boy was not one he was willing to seriously consider.

In the tanuki-boy's current class, he was attempting to mimic the '_Stupefy_' charm using a pencil instead of his wand, as even Remus Lupin, experienced dueller, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and veteran of the Order of the Phoenix in the first wizarding war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was not confident enough in his abilities to try and defend against whatever Gaara's wand would create in place of the student's simple stunning spell.

Once the humiliation was over for the Jinchuriki, Lupin dismissed his class so that they could raise hell for someone else, preferably Snape or Filch. The professor spotted a bright red patch moving at the back of the crowd, in no hurry to leave, accompanied by a platinum-blonde head who looked very pleased with his achievement in his last class, namely rendering one Ronald Weasley unconscious, only to be reawakened by Lupin's own '_Rennervate_' counter-curse soon after. He briskly walked to the exiting teens and asked Gaara to stay behind briefly so they could have a little chat. A private chat, he added when Draco, looking irritated to just be in Lupin's presence, showed no signs of leaving without being prompted.

When the room was empty other than the two silent occupants, Remus offered Gaara a seat before leaning against one of the many desks sat at the side of the room, once Gaara had removed his gourd and sat down.

"Gaara, I've noticed that you've been rather closed off recently; after that incident with the Boggart." Even the aging Marauder knew that wasn't really anything new, but there had definitely been a change in the boy's behaviour, making the recluse even more reserved than before. "Would you like to talk about what happened, about the fear you faced?"

A slow shake of the head dashed that thin sliver of hope for the well-wishing man who had wanted Gaara to open up a little; even if it was just to him. However, the fear inducing teen had no desire to reveal his past or emotions to this man, despite his obviously kind intentions, not yet.

"I'm just worried. We all know so little about you, Gaara, and when you faced your fear like that…" Lupin didn't need to finish as Gaara clearly had no intention of giving anything away for the moment, and badgering him wouldn't help any. "Okay, but if you ever need help, or want to talk to somebody, don't hesitate. I know this is a strange place for you," The werewolf had lowered his voice at this part, not willing for an eavesdropper to hear about their illicit connection, "and being here all alone must be difficult, but Padfoot and I are both here for you. You should probably get going; goodness knows what Mr Malfoy is getting up to in your absence."

Gaara stood, letting the heavy words sink in for him whilst he swung the gourd easily onto his back before he walked towards the door. As his hand rested on the door handle, he inaudibly sighed and reached behind himself and pulled the cork out of place to allow a small tendril of sand to crawl out and spell a few words. Soon after they had been shaped, they were dispersed as the (panda) _raccoon_-eyed boy left the room, the sand following soon after. It had read: 'She was my mother.'

Lupin, shocked beyond words, dropped the matter for the foreseeable future.

Upon leaving the classroom, the outcast found the halls to be completely empty so, in one of his sombre moods, he decided to enjoy the peace and tranquillity and walk lazily towards the nearest exit so he could relax in the autumn sun for a few hours before either dinner or his homework needed his attention. Lamentably, Gaara stumbled across what appeared to be Draco and a handful of other Slytherin upperclassmen harassing a first-year Gryffindor who looked more terrified than an Akimichi at an intervention. Well…at least Draco was socializing…

The tiny retired executioner stood still for a good few moments, as he weighed up whether he actually cared enough to intervene or if his conscience would hound him for hours for letting the child suffer a pummelling. With a dejected sigh he slumped towards the crowd who were currently playing keep-away with the eleven-year-old's new wand. A few of them looked up in time to see Gaara grab the wand from the air before handing it to the child and letting him run away from the suddenly still group who had parted like the Red Sea at the sight of the do-gooder.

"What in the world do you think you're doing?" The tallest of the Slytherins present demanded, as he watched their terrified prey run around a corner and out of sight.

"Yeah, that was a mud-blood you just helped."

"Draco, I thought you said he was a pureblood!" The boy across from Malfoy shouted accusatorily towards their social better and school underclassman.

"Look, I'm sure he's planning something much wors-" The platinum blonde couldn't finish his practiced bravado as the collar of his shirt was thrust into his wind pipe when the shinobi he was defending dragged him away from the group of his housemates with one hand on the scruff of his robes.

Ignoring Draco's chokes and the Slytherins' startled expressions at his raw physical strength, that was slight compared to his peers back home but still Herculean on this planet, Gaara hauled his roommate onwards through the castle, thankful for the clean floors that were aiding him infinitely with their slippery polished surfaces. As he walked forwards, the occasional resistance coming from Draco's thrashing feet, the Jinchuriki wondered who or what cleaned the floors around the castle, as he was certain the caretaker wouldn't use his mop for anything other than cleaning up vomit and hitting trespassing students. His trivial musings weren't long lived as he decided that he'd walked quite far enough, judging by Draco having gone still all of a sudden. Turning a corner into a darkened and isolated alcove, Gaara performed one more feat of amazing strength for the day, already having tired his arm out sufficiently, as he hefted Draco up to his feet, holding on a little longer than necessary to make sure his acquaintance was fully conscious and not going to fall back down to the ground again.

Thankfully, the heir to the Malfoy fortune was still conscious and was understandably upset because of his maltreatment only moments ago, though his fuming rant fell on death ears as Gaara called sand out of his gourd and started to form a few quick hand-seals, stopping Draco in the middle of his train of thought as he watched the sand rise to a soft and constantly shifting pillar that erected to just under Draco's own height. Before long, the shifting of the sand pillar began to slow as it took the shape of the newest addition to the Hogwarts family. The sand particles all rolled into place and recreated even the most miniscule of details from the red-head who didn't look even close to as amazed as Draco, who couldn't stop staring as the sand-clone started to change colour to match Gaara exactly, detail for detail minus the enormous gourd absent from the copy.

"What in th-"

"It's called a sand clone, Draco."

Draco was struck more speechless than the original Gaara, who was standing to the right of his clone whom had just said the first words anyone from that world had ever heard Gaara say. The newly speechless teen didn't know which he was more startled by: the fact that the mute teen had just spoken to him, albeit through a clone, or that Gaara, who had caused more than a few nightmares around the castle and was thought to be the most terrifying thing to roam the halls since the sixty-foot basilisk from Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, had such a soft speaking voice.

"I need to talk to you." The delicate voice returned soon after, though it was in a predictably short and reserved manner, much like Gaara's sand messages which most people around the school had assumed were to accommodate his limited volume of sand.

"But, why didn't you use this before now?" Draco asked, pointing uncomfortably at the clone and looking between the identically blank and yet steely black-rimmed pairs of eyes, not sure which he should address.

"This is a technique for battle, not leisure." Like Gaara in the past, the sand-bunshin didn't blink all that much as it spoke, unnerving the avid listener despite his face's incredulous expression at the childish reason for Gaara's continual and apparently voluntary, silence.

"So, talk…" Draco, although shocked, was still miffed at almost being strangled to death in such a muggle manner and so couldn't help but be a little short with his friend… and his friend's clone.

Gaara wasted no time in mentally commanding his sand-clone to begin telling Draco his story, and about what he had long ago accepted into his heart. He just hoped he could persuade the pureblood to change his ways without having to resort to violence, like he himself had needed.

"I used to be just like you," Gaara-clone said, instantly drawing Draco's attention at the saddened inflection the perfect copy was using. "I was so alone, and filled with hatred for everybody around me… I lived in a place where everyone loathed, and despised me, and thought I was nothing more than a weapon to be used and then tossed away."

Malfoy stood slack-jawed as he listened to the familiar life story whilst the real Gaara stared at the ground, leaving his doppelganger to continue. "I killed people… so many people… and until a few months ago, I had never looked back in regret."

The unsurprising revelation that the, admittedly scary, teenager that he had slept beside for the past few weeks was a sociopathic serial-killer, was just one of the many he had been gifted in the past few seconds; wherein questions he had held had been answered, but just as these answers were given, even more questions were left in their wake. This led Draco to lean forward in anticipation of the next part of the riveting story. And frankly, he had gained a little more respect and maybe even admiration for Gaara after he learnt of his sordid past. He would have thought that Dumbledore, in his supposed glory and splendour, would have stopped such a dangerous being from entering the school.

"Why… why did you kill them?" The Slytherin hadn't even noticed his words leave his mouth, but now that they had, he was desperately curious.

"To prove my existence. I was nothing more than a tool that could be disposed of at any time, so I needed to leave a bloody path of destruction to show that I had lived." There was no nostalgia or pride in Gaara's voice, only remorse as he poured his heart out. He hadn't planned to share so much with anyone in this world, much less Draco Malfoy, whom he had met less than a month ago; but Gaara knew it was a minor sacrifice if he was to save the boy from himself.

"So, why did you stop? You were right; if it proves you are worth something, then it's okay to kill a few idiots." Draco wasn't just defending Gaara now, he was defending himself and his own actions and he didn't even know it.

"Because I met someone who showed me a better path, a way to be stronger. He was just like me, he had grown up feared and despised, but he did not fill his life with that hatred. He worked to protect his precious people, even if he died. In the end, even though I was much stronger, I lost to him… At first I couldn't understand why he kept fighting… I thought I was alone, but even I had precious people. Despite everything that I had done, I had people to rely on."

"But others make you weak. Someone could take them as hostages or they could betray you..."

"Is it better to be alone?"

Draco looked thoroughly confused at this turn in the conversation, having been raised to believe the exact opposite of what he was hearing now, and the most perplexing part was that it was making perfect sense to him.

"Who told you all of this?"

Gaara paused for a moment before answering with a light smile on both sand and real faces, "A loud, blonde idiot."

"Why are you telling me these things?" Draco looked the gift-horse in the mouth and he was genuinely baffled.

"Because it is too painful to watch you suffering like you are right now. You hide behind such an angry and isolated mask and I am afraid… If you live your life behind a mask, then eventually you'll lose who you were beneath it. Like I did."

"Mask? What are you talking about?"

"Do you really agree with what the others say, with what your father tells you?" Gaara's scepticism mirrored Draco's uncertainty, as the former played on what he had gathered about the latter. Once the sand shinobi had gotten over the emotional trauma brought up by his mother's reappearance, he looked into what Draco's father's appearance meant and found some rather disturbing rumours about the man and his xenophobic beliefs, which he had probably thrust upon his son since a young age.

"That's not true! Those mud-bloods are abominations that don't deserve to use magic! They are inferior in every way to us purebloods!"

"Then, why did you have to ask if I was a pureblood? You should have been able to tell from one look."

"That's bec-"

"There is no difference, and I think you know that. An old family isn't what gives you strength. Only after you have protected someone important to you, will you find real strength."

"I don't have a choice; if I don't follow tradition then my father will disown me. I'll have no one else."

"So, instead, you will suffer while doing what you know is wrong."

"The Dark Lord would kill me if I became a blood-traitor, like the Weasleys" Despite the obvious simultaneous confusion and revelations that were whirling around Draco's mind, his loathing of the Weasleys was still able to shine through as clear as day.

"You have to stand up for what you believe in, even if it kills you." Gaara replied, hoping that what he was saying was still getting through to the scared teenager.

As Draco's face morphed into shock, the mute of the pair decided he had said enough for the moment, and that any more would merely overload the platinum-blonde's brain. The taller of the two didn't seem to notice as the sand-clone cracked and fell apart until it was once again a pile of sand on the ground, ready to be called back into the crazy-tanuki-landlord's gourd. Gaara walked away as the sand finished floating back into its holder, praying that the weather was still warm enough to sit outside in.

Draco Malfoy stayed standing in the dark secluded corner of Hogwarts on his own for over an hour after Gaara had left to relax, as his mind worked over the myriad of ideas he had been given not long ago. Eventually, Draco came to the startling and damning conclusion that Gaara, for all of his eccentricities and faults, had been right: Draco didn't want to be so alone and angry all the time, not any more. He had a very difficult time ahead of him now that he was to change his life. With a great sigh, Draco couldn't help but wonder if he wouldn't have been better off ignorant of his own misdeeds… Probably not.

Malfoy slumped off in the direction of his common room to sleep off the oncoming headache that was making itself known on the horizon of his mind.

* * *

Gaara had been a very busy little bee in the past week. The off-worlder's chat with Draco had yielded the unexpected benefit of freeing his time enormously, opening up the possibility of some extracurricular research. Due to the secretive nature of Gaara's true origins, he had been unable to look into a solution to his predicament whilst he was still being followed closely by Draco, whom he'd had trouble shaking off before his talk. Recently, though, Draco had begun to change in many ways; mainly his associating with different people. No longer did he sit exclusively with the blood purists and spiteful Slytherins during meals, now Draco had taken to sitting by the moderates and rare muggle-born Slytherins. However, this change in seating was hardly volitional as, even with Draco's miraculous change in persona, eliminating his deep-seated hatred towards all but the nobles and purebloods, he still didn't particularly like the mud-bloods and blood traitors who were either ignorant of wizarding ways or were as dirt-poor as the Weasley family, and as uneducated to boot. The Malfoy heir would have been content to spend his time with his old 'friends', even if he didn't support their extreme views or particularly like their personalities anymore, but they didn't feel quite the same way as him evidently, shown by their open disgust at his apparent treachery and their shunning of him.

These hardships had produced a positive result, to Gaara's delight, as Draco was now happy to socialize with other houses; other houses meaning Ravenclaw, as the Hufflepuffs were still wimps and idiots in the newly reformed antagonist's eyes and the less said about the Gryffindors the better.

With Draco open to new people, not all of his time was spent with Gaara; though, he still spent the majority of his free time around his roommate, to said roommate's chagrin, as he had apparently struck further accord with the silent boy since he had stopped devoting his energies to hating others. It wasn't that Gaara really disliked Draco, as he wasn't one to tolerate fools, but he had desperately needed to get some time alone. With the platinum-blonde otherwise occupied for the moment, there had been nothing to stop the red-head from hiding-out in the library for the last five hours on the rainy Saturday afternoon to study.

Then again, after five hours, the bookworm had found absolutely nothing on his chosen subject. He had scoured both the student and rumoured restricted sections and could not locate a single volume regarding dimensional magic or any mention of his home world. There wasn't even any reliable information about shinobi, just a similar culture in another country on this planet that barely resembled his home and was without jutsu. The only thing Gaara had been able to deduce firmly was that he was not on the same planet anymore. The Suna-nin had one hunch, and that was that he was in a parallel universe. He had noticed, almost immediately after he learned that he wasn't in his own world, that the people spoke the same language and were, for the most part, human. It would have been a little bit too coincidental if the two worlds had been so similar yet unrelated. Unfortunately, that didn't help the littlest-sand shinobi as he didn't know one space-time jutsu and hadn't signed a contract with a summon animal.

Slamming his fists down on the desk piled high with books, Gaara let out a suppressed scream of frustration, ignoring the stacks of hardbacks that fell to the floor in his fury. The ninja had known that it would take more than one day to remedy his situation, but he had expected to find something, anything on the subject that could lead him elsewhere, but it was as if wizards didn't know how to perform space-time techniques. The closest the stranded boy could find was apparition, but that was severely limited in distance and couldn't go anywhere but Earth.

Even if it took asking Dumbledore for help, Gaara would get home. But he wasn't quite so forlorn yet, as he still had a few more places to search, and he could always enlist the help of Moony and Padfoot, as long as he could stand being called by his loathed nickname for a few hours.

* * *

A little known fact is that convicted criminals on the run, hiding out in abandoned shacks, don't have very much to do with their time; granted, the criminals can stare out of the window or break old furniture or, if they are lucky enough to be an unregistered animagus, go out on runs through the deserted and freezing-cold woods. But, other than that, criminals on the run have very long and unfulfilling days, unless they are fortunate and have a friend willing to send owls to them with current news and stories about how their friends are doing in school.

Sirius waited for his best friend's messages like a drowning man waited for his next breath, and when they did come, he could barely keep from kissing the delivery owl on the break. In fact, there had been nasty incident a few weeks before that ended with a large cut on his lips and a decidedly put-out owl.

When the latest owl came for the dog-turned-man, he was ecstatic as he hadn't heard from Remus in over a week, which, admittedly, wasn't that long, but was still long enough for him to be going stir crazy from boredom. He tore the letter from the scorned owl's clutches without so much as a thank you, sorry or even a passing glance, before he sat down on one of the few chairs left in the house that could still withstand him sitting on it. Sirius ripped open the wax seal on the parchment and began to read one of the only consolations left for the lonely man.

'_Padfoot,_

_Things have been relatively quiet here since I last owled you, but I figured you would be going insane out there by yourself. Typical; you break out of a prison where most of the inmates lose there minds, and you go mad through boredom. _

_Prongs Jr. has been doing well in school, and I think he might be one of my best students in the practical defence classes. He mastered the stupefy spell in one lesson. It was like watching Prongs again! I just wish his theory was as good. Maybe he could get some help from one of his friends. He's more like you in that respect._

_Sadly, he seems to be down as of late. I don't know what is upsetting him, but I have tried talking to him. He didn't want to talk about it. That reminds me; I talked to Lily like you suggested. He was as shielded as always, but I did find out what his Boggart was about. I will tell you in person next time I'm able to get to you, which should probably be some time after next week. I'll probably pop in after the full moon. _

_On the upside, Lily seems to have had a positive effect on his friend, the one I told you about last time. The boy doesn't even seem to be going out of his way to attack Prong Jr. anymore. It's a miracle. _

_I think I'm rambling so I'll finish this letter now and let you get back to your busy day. _

_Your old friend, _

_Moony_

_P.S. I found Wormtail. He's been staying in the Gryffindor dorm rooms during the day lately. I will get him soon and then we can finish it._'

This latest communication put Sirius into a mixture of simultaneous ease and concern as he joyfully reread the part about Harry being just like his father, before looking at the disconcerting part about Lily's Boggart, considering the fate of the transformed Boggart. Not only that, Harry's depression really worried Sirius as he was the boy's godfather and should have been the one to talk to him about his troubles instead of hiding in a dilapidated shack whilst the world thought he was trying to kill the boy.

At least there was some good news in there, other than Harry's magical aptitude, that being Gaara fighting for the light. That he had managed to turn one of the staunchest and most bigoted families' heirs against the pureblood belief structure was simply amazing. Sirius had, truthfully, been very upset when he heard that his new friend had been sorted into the snake house, but now he was ready to see a whole new upside to this situation, namely Gaara changing even more minds against the evils that lead to so many wars. He'd have to congratulate Lily, next time he saw him. And whilst he was there, he would have to give the tiny ninja a few lessons in spell casting if Lupin's letters regarding the boy's dangerous incompetence and ineptitude in magic were to be believed.

As the hour grew late, the owl having arrived deep into the night to avoid any questions about who the reclusive and lonesome professor was mailing, Sirius pored over the last note in the relatively short message, regarding his dear old friend, Pettigrew. Oh, how Sirius wanted to tear that rat limb from limb. The rage had been building constantly towards the traitor since his escape from Azkaban months ago, and it was getting to the point where he wasn't sure he could wait any longer to kill him. If Lupin didn't act soon, he would.

Sirius folded up the latest letter and hid it under one of the many loose floorboards, which held all of the precious snippets of information from his beloved Hogwarts. The scapegoat uneasily fell into a terrible and troubled sleep, haunted by the demons of his twelve year stay in hell, the only reprieve coming from the pleasant memories of his friends and family.

* * *

Draco tried valiantly to hold back a snicker as he watched Gaara squirm virtually imperceptibly in their current lesson, his roommate apparently uncomfortable surrounded by the veritable rainforest of vegetation that comprised the walls of the green-houses that held the third-years' Herbology classes. Professor Sprout seemed oblivious to Gaara's nervous shifting as he tried desperately not to touch any of the hundreds of plants that inundated him whilst still listening to the teacher's speech about Devil's Snare, the dangers presented by the plant and its uses in places like dungeons to protect valuables. Gaara did not, by any stretch of the imagination, have a universal fear of plants unlike his magical-aviophobia. Being a ninja, the desert-dweller spent a lot of his time jumping through trees when in another country, and was actually quite partial to his cactus garden at home, but when you grow up with an older brother who creates most of his poisons from rare and exotic flowers, you begin to distrust strange looking plants.

Gaara really hoped that someone was looking after his cactus orchard. Then again, it wasn't like it needed to be watered for a good few months.

In the mean-time, the red-head was trying to remember if the plant he was dangerously close to leaning on was of any relation to the scary purple plant in Kankuro's bedroom that he had been told never to touch. Other than Gaara's wariness, the lesson was largely uneventful. One of his patented Death Glares© soon shut Draco up.

The head of Hufflepuff house was happy to report in the staffroom that evening that her all-glass classroom had been left completely undamaged once more. As time went on, it became apparent to Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher and chief bookie of the Gaara-Classroom-Demolition pool, that her little prize horse was losing his taste for destruction. Minerva had to comfort her crying colleague after the revelation that she would be losing the hundreds of galleons she had been collecting on top of her wages.

Snape still didn't trust the little monster with his classroom, though.

One teacher, who'd had the luxury not to work in a confined space that could potentially be destroyed by the accident-prone transfer student, was Rubeus Hagrid. Despite the near-death experience of one of his third-year students, the threat of a law-suit from the boy's friend's father and his complete lack of academic expertise, the man continued to try and share his vast knowledge pertaining to magical creatures in the only way he knew how. That way being, showing the animals to the students; though, he had stopped forcing them into riding the beasts since his first accident.

During the teacher's latest escapades, detailing the behavioural differences of Hippogriffs and Pegasus's, Gaara stood far at the back of the congregation with the strongest conviction not to interact nor ride any of the monsters he was being shown. Gaara was NOT scared of the Hippogriff strutting around the clearing, he was just being cautious, respecting his foe's space.

Draco was eating possibly the loudest apple ever grown with great relish whilst he listened half-heartedly to the incompetent oaf's lecture that was soon drowned out by a loud, angry, whinny followed by, what the scared racoon-boy could only describe as, an indignant squawk. Hagrid, for all of his years of experience with the thousands of magical creatures that inhabit the Forbidden Forrest, hadn't considered that he had never seen a Hippogriff socialize with a Pegasus in the wild, and now they were fighting.

Inching further away from the rampaging beasts, Gaara decided, as did most of the class that the lesson was probably over for today. The Slytherin outcasts walked away from the open-air classroom in favour of a game of Wizard's Chess which was suspiciously like Shogi, for which Gaara had not lost a single match against Malfoy due to his tactical skills. He was raised as a demonic war machine; it was only natural that he could trump a teenager in simulated battlefield strategy.

After ten minutes of walking through the woods, it occurred to Draco that he didn't remember walking this way to get to the lesson earlier that afternoon. In fact, now that he paid attention to his surroundings, he didn't really recognise anything around him. Turning to his walking companion, Malfoy aired his concerns about their current location to which Gaara gestured noncommittally that he too, did not know where they were or, more importantly, where they were going. As uninterested as the trained killer seemed to be, his sheltered friend was certainly starting to panic, further exacerbated by Gaara's aloofness.

They turned around after Draco insisted that he'd seen some of the creatures that came out after dark in the forest and that they weren't the kinds of things he wanted to meet again in a hurry. Another five minutes of walking and they were thoroughly lost.

The calmer of the pair, was so because, for one, he knew he could fight off almost any obstacle they came across, and two, because he had walked through the very same forest not so long ago and he had been without protection and heavily injured. The biggest danger Draco was in was annoying his walking partner too much and risking being knocked out. Gaara was considering whether it would be easier to just carry a quietly sleeping Draco instead of listening to his paranoid whining for the next few hours whilst he established where they were, when an idea came to him. The experienced assassin activated his _Third Eye_ technique, making the panicking Malfoy jump and stare at the single strangest thing he'd seen his roommate do…today. The strange creation floated before its owner, as he covered his own eye and connected with the artificial one.

Whilst Draco silently debated whether this technique was creepier than the sand clone or not, Gaara raised the orb high above the canopy to get an eagle-eye view of the area. To the ninja's amusement, not only did he see Hogwarts far in the distance, he saw three oblivious teenagers hidden about a hundred feet away from him, behind a bush. The three were whispering excitedly about something, and kept glancing suspiciously towards Draco and him. It was still only the middle of the day so Gaara, in one of his more mischievous moods, decided to continue his walk for the rest of the day.

Gaara pointed in an arbitrary direction, reassuring the nervous Draco as they began their day-long trek through the woods. He deactivated his extra eye when he was sure the Golden Trio, who had followed the two conspicuous Slytherins, were still on his trail.

Six hours later, Draco was not in a good mood, nor were the three Gryffindor pursuers who had given up the pretence of secretly following the Slytherins four hours ago. The only person on the hike who wasn't glaring at anyone was the person who was being glared at. The Suna-nin wasn't even close to tired by the time they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forrest, and had inadvertently learnt a particularly useful fact for the up-and-coming full moon.

Shukaku, even with all of his power as a tailed-demon, was an idiot and couldn't use any techniques more complicated than a super-enhanced belch. If the Ichibi were to take control in a week's time, then Gaara needed somewhere where the sand monster couldn't get to the students, and since the demon would only be able to use Gaara's body and not his own gigantic one, the perfect place had been right outside of his window the whole time. The Forbidden Forrest would trap the tiny-tanuki demon until the morning when Gaara could take control and use his _Third Eye _to leave. It would simply mean that he would have to leave most of his sand in the dormitory to avoid his inner demon from creating a miniature body to move faster. Gaara didn't want to take any chances and leave a defenceless population centre open to slaughter.

The four real wizards were sure that their guide had led them in circles all day on purpose, especially when the boy had let slip a thin sliver of a smile. Of course, the Slytherin and Gryffindors had never conferred or discussed this theory because, no matter what strenuous hardships they were put through together, they still hated each other passionately. Around two hours back, Hermione had tried to start up a conversation including their Slytherin classmates, which was completely ignored by Gaara who was still leading them around the Forbidden Forest with no intention change directions for another hour or so, and Draco listlessly indulged in the chatter, which surprised the conversation's initiator and her two close friends.

As they all walked into the Great Hall, intending to catch dinner as it started, they hoped to subtly slip into their seats without drawing any unnecessary attention to themselves. The usual hubbub and clattering present in the Great Hall came to an immediate halt when the doors revealed the absentee Harry Potter and his four classmates. The teachers, who had all been busy deliberating over their missing students and their unascertained fates, had been worried out of their minds for the past few hours when Hagrid arrived back at the castle minus five students. Well, most of the teachers had been concerned; Snape had suggested, with no small measure of gaiety in his voice, that they might have run afoul of some of the Dementors roaming the grounds, or been eaten by one of the Forest's various carnivorous inhabitants, or encountered a runaway mass murderer. Though, Severus was well aware that those sorts of horrific fates were unlikely because of Gaara's presence, which had proven to be lethal when needs be. Still, whilst it would have been lamentable to lose Mr Malfoy, the deaths of the other four thorns in his side would have been a welcome relief.

So, when the quintet of wanderers returned to the pandemonium of Hogwarts, they had not expected to be welcomed so loudly by the Headmaster of all people, and certainly not so angrily.

Shouting through the roar of inquisitive students, Dumbledore commanded with his prevailing veneration, "Quiet! Misters Gaara, Malfoy, Potter, Weasley and Miss Granger, come with me!" He left no room for objection or argument as he swept past his teaching staff and out of the back exit of the hall. He didn't slow down on his way to his office, his rare anger showing through in perfect form as he sped through the empty halls of the school. Once the five had taken the long walk down the centre aisle, trying in vain to avoid as many stares and questioning glances as possible, they too left the hall after their principle.

Gaara shivered as he felt the accusatory and jealous stares of his fan-club on his back when he left the enormous chamber.

The corridor was eerie for the group, as they followed to where they assumed the Professor had left to in a hurry. None of them talked, not for Ron's lack of trying, he had made numerous attempts to start up a light-hearted conversation with his two close friends and even once with Gaara, but due to the tense nature of this latest walk and one student's mute nature, all were shot down quickly. The stone gargoyle that usually guarded Dumbledore's office was already gone, leaving the chilling steps behind for the troublesome students to climb. The only person not afraid of what they might find waiting for them at the top of the stairs was, of course, Gaara who had recently been debating whether or not it was worth him staying in the school for the rest of the year when he couldn't even find any useful information. He had decided to put off the decision for a little while, until he was absolutely certain there was nothing he could learn. And then there was always the possibility he might never find a way home, and if that was the case then he would need to associate with the wizarding world. He was fairly certain that he would stand out like a sore thumb in the muggle world… more so than in the wizarding one.

Up the winding spiral staircase the five trudged until they stood outside of the thick wooden door that the Headmaster must have shut after himself for dramatic effect.

"Come in." They heard the aging wizard's voice through the door, which sounded more exasperated than angry by this point.

Albus had been the most scared of all of the teachers because he knew precisely how much danger Harry and his friends had been in. In the Forbidden Forest, there was not only the potential threat of Sirius Black, but also the violent animals and the dementors that could easily have done away with them, and then there was Draco Malfoy who could very well have attacked the Gryffindors out of spite, and finally there was Gaara. That had been the real reason he had had the teachers out searching for three long hours along with many of the older students who had brooms; not the acromantulas, dragons and serial killers, no, Dumbledore had been frantically searching for them because he had been sure that Gaara had been the cause of their disappearance. He was right, but Gaara had no intention of killing his classmates, though he had briefly considered maiming Ron Weasley because of his irritating questions and never-ending forgetfulness in regards to the Sunagakure resident's muted condition. But Albus need never know that.

He watched the five guilty looking teenagers file into his office, even Gaara looked a little remorseful, but that might have been because he had been caught pulling a childish prank and was embarrassed by his similarity to a certain fox-faced shinobi back home. Nevertheless, the Chief Mugwump was not going to go easy on them because they looked sorry, he had to impress the severity of the risk they took today. Plus, sometimes he liked to play the 'bad cop', it was kind of fun.

"Sit down, please." The voice was grave and scared four of them so much that they didn't even question the fact that there weren't any chairs for them to use. Hermione was about to sit down on the ground when five chairs appeared, as if by magic. They all took their seats as instructed, Gaara noticing and appreciating that his chair was in fact a stool. He gave a nod to Dumbledore in gratitude for the man's consideration of his unique back-wear.

"Professor, we can explain-" Hermione started in a panic, but was cut of by the headmaster's raised hand.

"Miss Granger, I do not care for excuses, so do not waste my time by telling them." The glare directed over the top of half-moon spectacles was chilling the five it was directed at. As Gaara listened to the tense conversation that was slowly progressing, he wondered why he had been invited to attend when it was no secret that he could participate no more than the colourful bird in the corner could. At that thought, he began to watch the bird as it leisurely pruned itself on its perch. He didn't know how much time had elapsed since he had turned his gaze to the fascinating red bird, but his attention quickly snapped back to the humans in the room when they decided to canvas his opinion.

"Is that true, Gaara?" Dumbledore looked more thoughtful now, but still concerned which led Gaara to nod slowly but surely. Time to see if luck was on his side today.

"Well, I'm glad we were able to clear that mess up. But, in future, stay with your class when you return from Professor Hagrid's class. Now, if you hurry, I'm sure you can catch the end of dinner."

As they began to quickly move towards the door, all saying sorry and goodbye except for Gaara who gave another nod, Albus spoke up once again, "Harry, might I have a word with you in private. The rest of you should just go ahead, he won't be long."

Without any further ado, Gaara moved onwards quickly. He was hungry, bored and battling a major headache caused by a hungry and bored demon inside of him. The other three followed him, though the two from the house of gold and red were decidedly hesitant in their pace as they were leaving Harry to whatever the Headmaster had left to say after the, admittedly light, chewing-out.

They instantly divided into their different houses when they entered the Great Hall, once again earning the entire student body's attention. They all sat down in their regular seats, which for the Slytherins meant at the end of the table with the rest of the outcasts. Fortunately for the eating snakes, their house wasn't nearly as outright nosy as the Gryffindors who wouldn't let their returning housemates finish a bite without answering all of their questions.

The night didn't quiet down for any of them after that, as, when Harry returned, the questioning intensified for the Gryffindor so much that the Slytherin table could hear the noisy rabble loud and clear, leading Gaara to go to bed early to sleep off the worst of the headache that Shukaku was causing. The Tanuki-host was sure that it was related to the oncoming full moon, he just hoped his countermeasures would work.

When the red-head left the table, the previously scared Slytherins who didn't hate Draco, gained the courage to start asking him questions as well, causing him to move to the Slytherins who did hate him now. They weren't so much scornful as business like in their questioning of their peer, waiting to hear his reasons for cavorting with the worst of the 'Gryffindorks'. After some quick pomposity, in which he detailed the trick Gaara played on them to mess with the Golden Trio, leaving out his involvement entirely, he went on to describe how annoying they were and how much he hated them. The other Slytherins, who were quick to allow him back into their ranks, did not notice that during the lengthy list of faults he outlined regarding the three lions, he didn't mention blood purity or blood loyalty.

They did ask about Gaara, though, to which Draco said he was still a complete mystery. As far as Draco was concerned, he hadn't lied once.

The only person who had left the dining hall when the five returned, other than the teenagers in trouble, was Remus who needed to urgently send an owl to his good friend. Earlier, when the children had gone missing, Lupin had sent Sirius a note asking him to go out as Padfoot and search the forest for them. It was against his better judgement, but the thought of those five getting hurt or worse, spurred him into irrational action. Now that they had arrived back safe and sound, he needed to tell Sirius to get back to the safety of the shack lest he fall prey to one of the horrors of the woods.

Unfortunately, by the time the owl had arrived at the presumed location of Sirius, he was long gone; searching for his godson and his friend along with their friends. Magical owls can find almost anyone in the world if the address they are sent to is incorrect, but when an owl has a grudge against a person for, in this case, kissing the bird, said bird might just drop the letter there and leave it for the person to find whenever they arrive back. Even if that time is early the next morning, after having stayed out all night searching for the already found students.

* * *

September thirtieth, the night of the full moon.

The day was difficult; an understatement as far as Gaara was concerned as he laboured through the day's classes whilst struggling not to summon some kind of sand weapon to slaughter the children around him. His fighting against Shukaku's influence didn't go unnoticed by his companion whose, although noble, ultimately useless help was appreciated greatly by the suffering Jinchuriki who elected to skip his final class of the day as he wasn't sure if he could stop himself from crushing the life from Snape.

Malfoy had been so concerned over his roommate's worsening headaches over the last few days that he had gone to Madam Pomfrey under the guise of suffering the headaches himself with the notion that he could simply take the potions to Gaara so that the boy could get some sleep, but Draco hadn't counted on her insistence that he drink it right there and then. He'd dropped into a deep sleep for the next six hours before awakening with an almost euphoric feeling like he'd gotten the best night's sleep in his life. He considered telling his relapsed-insomniac friend to go the infirmary but, by the way he was trying to hide his problem and pretend that everything was okay, Draco guessed any such advice would be quite offensive.

The teenage noble didn't know what was causing Gaara's ailment, so he resolved to help in any other way he could. That involved covering for him when he skipped classes, threatening to curse the people in the next room to theirs so that Gaara had a better chance at sleep or just helping with his homework.

But now, as Gaara prepared for the night ahead, he hid all of his weapons and valuables, including his hitai-ate which he stowed under his pillow. It wasn't really the most secure place he could have hid it in, but its worth was only sentimental. He also dropped the gourd next to his bed, unconcerned about it for the moment, only taking the care to extract enough sand to form a third eye when he needed before re-corking it. He briefly considered writing Draco a note to explain his absence during the night, but was saved the trouble when the boy walked through the door.

"Gaara; I need to talk-" He didn't finish his sentence as a quick chop to the back of his neck rendered him unconscious, courtesy of the person he had been concerned about. Dumping his friend onto his bed, Gaara did feel a little remorse for being so forceful with the civilian, but knew the longer he stayed, the more dangerous things/he was going to get. Besides, this way he wouldn't have to explain why he was sneaking out of the school in the evening before a full moon.

He walked out of his room and then out of the Slytherin common room, thankful that it wasn't late enough for him to run into many people with problematic questions. He managed, by some miracle, to escape the castle without being seen by one person. Gaara didn't consider Filch as a person, and anyway, the ratty old man wasn't going to tell anyone he saw the scary little kid leave the castle when there were still so many left behind. As far as Argus was concerned, one down, countless more to go.

One factor, Gaara hadn't considered when he made his plan of action, was that whilst the forest was completely clear of dementors during the day; during the night was a completely different matter. The black-cloaked monstrosities were already beginning to swoop in and out of the trees as Gaara set off on his run through the woods. He had no doubt that when Shukaku took over his body that night, the demon would have little difficulty dealing with them, but whilst Gaara was still in control he was weakened without his sand and weapons. As he continued his run, he noticed the wraiths were drawn towards him and soon began to follow and catch up with him. Taking out the small measure of sand that he had brought with him, he formed it into a rudimentary kunai shape and shot it at the dementors. It flew right through them like the real knives had done before, until he struck one in the head whereupon it met resistance. Commanding the free-flying weapon to aim for the heads of the pursuing creatures was simple enough and it seemed to damage, and in some cases kill, them. When he'd killed five or so, they began to withdraw for the moment until night had fallen and they could return in greater numbers.

As the time stood, Gaara figured he had at least two more hours until sunset would arrive and the full moon would be unveiled. The demon-beast's screams were literally echoing in his head as he kept on sprinting desperately away from the children who would, no doubt, be ripped to shreds until Gaara himself was either killed or captured and then killed.

When the tired and pained teenage weapon finally came to a stop in a densely planted area, he knelt down and waited. He could see through the think blanket of leaves above him that the sun was just pushing past the horizon. Already the familiar feeling of the mental seals on Shukaku weakening sprang to the forefront of his mind but then it was something different. As the last glimmers of solar light burst across the red-head's vision, he could feel a change occurring, but not as it had during the last lunar cycle or ever before.

Collapsing to the floor, Gaara's last coherent thoughts were of fear and uncertainty at this new sensation that was so foreign to him. The seals on Shukaku weren't dissolving, but rather changing and transforming into something unrecognisable. But this unexpected change did not stop Gaara from feeling a change going through him as he lost consciousness, only to wake up an hour or so later.

Things were not right…

To be continued.

* * *

Omake: 

You could call Gaara a whole host of things, many of which are unsavoury, but one label that had never been affixed to the Jinchuriki of the sand was 'paranoid'. So, when the sand user, sat in an isolated corner of the school's library to study the various magical texts he had collected, began to feel a chill go down his spine like he was being watched, he could not help but fell worried. The demon-host looked around himself, trying to ascertain who was watching him read, but every time he looked one way or the other, he would get another feeling of being watched from another direction.

Over the next thirty minutes, Gaara performed the _Suna Shunshin Jutsu _four times to escape whatever elite tracking unit was following him and eventually he hid in the restricted section to avoid whoever was following him. He stayed hidden in there for another hour when he saw what had been on his tail.

The group of over twenty fangirls, who were all sporting their poorly drawn-on racoon eyes, had their wands out and ready. The group of crazy females had decided to capture their idol and confess their undying (delusional) love to him until he reciprocated that love. Gaara had a very different plan for his day, and it didn't include being abducted by a group of deranged girls.

He stealthily opened the door that separated the restricted and everyday sections of the library, and snuck past the rabid fangirls until he was at the exit of the library. Unfortunately, as he was just moving past the librarian's desk, he heard the terrifying call of "There he is!"

Jumping back to his feet, having crawled along the floor to escape capture, he picked up the nearest stack of books to him and began throwing them at the annoying women. He hit a few on the head, not feeling the slightest guilt for attacking the crazed fans, but before he could knock even a quarter out, they started to fire off stunning and freezing spells at him and the books he was throwing. The great 1993 Battle of the Library, as it came to be known, lasted all too briefly as Gaara ran out of books and was forced to flee. The fan club regrouped and followed after him, intent on capturing the object of their affections.

Similar to Gaara, Draco Malfoy had also been given many unkind names over the years, but one name he was rarely given was 'unlucky'; the sort of bad fortune, which would lead to one being in the completely wrong place and wrong time. For instance, in the path of your sociopath roommate as he is being chased by almost twenty, mad girls who would do just about anything to get to him. By the end of that day, Draco would be know as the unluckiest person it Hogwarts for some time to come, after he had been literally thrown by his good friend into the path of the mob of crazy girls.

That day, Gaara escaped, but Draco didn't. He was stunned and taken back to the headquarters of the Gaara Fan club where he was interrogated for several hours about his treacherous friend.

That night, during dinner, Albus wasn't sure who was angrier; the student who had been kidnapped by the unofficial club that had sprung up at the beginning of the term that seemed to have developed an unhealthy obsession with the new transfer student, because he had been tossed to them by said transfer student; or the head librarian who had returned from her lunch break to find her beloved book repository in ruins. Dumbledore had had to comfort both a traumatised Slytherin and a crying Madam Pince for well over an hour. By the time they each had left his office, they had overcome their sadness and, in Draco's case, disturbance, and had moved onto anger. They were out for blood.

Dumbledore had also had to set up an informal restraining order against the Gaara fan club. It was for everybody's protection.

* * *

A/N: I can't promise the next chapter will be any sooner but I will try to get one out in the next few months. And I am so very sorry for the continuing cliff-hangers, but I hope the next chapter is worth it. The next one is where I set up one of the main story lines, sort of. Also, I do not plan for this to be a short fiction but a rather long one.

Also, I fear I gave the impression that I didn't want to complete this project, which was probably because of that first chapter's author's note, but I do. I want to complete this series one day, but whether or not I _can_ is a mystery. Please review and as always, I hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5: A New Problem

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction.

A/N: I really am so very sorry for the longer-than-usual wait. I have not and did not abandon this story and have been writing it semi-constantly (for the last year-or-so), just a lot slower than perhaps I should have. I almost ended up finishing this chapter to put up exactly a year after the last update, but things got in the way again, as they have been doing so a lot in the last year and so it's being uploaded now.

As always, thank you for your reviews, each and every one of you. I have read all of those reviews multiple times and have enjoyed reading them immensely, so please keep them coming. Also, perhaps belatedly, thanks to those of you who pointed me towards the lost Naruto fic that I was looking for called 'The Ghost and the Darkness'.

I'm afraid there might be one or two mistakes that I haven't noticed but I cannot, for the life of me, reread this chapter again. I've edited this chapter so much over the last year I think I could probably recite the first quarter from memory. I'm not saying there is going to be anything wrong with it, but I'm not willing to read to find out. If any readers do find an error, feel free to alert me in a review.

Oh, by any chance, would any accomplished artists like to draw me a nice fic-cover/profile pic for free, since this new function has come out?

*crickets of awkward silence sound off* ...I thought not...

I did consider adding in a brief summary of everything that's happened up until now in Silent Humanity so that you could catch up after this long hiatus, but that thought passed quickly since it would have been far too long and would have left out 'important' stuff anyway. If you need refreshing badly enough, you could always reread the entire thing. I did that and it took ages.

So, after a year and a half(ish), I present to you chapter 5 of Silent Humanity!

**Edit: Within a day of publishing this chapter (about two weeks ago) I got an offer for a fic cover and now, so soon after, I present to you this wonderful illustration, provided by the generous Darkling221. A big round of applause for Darkling221 (Whose DeviantArt address is **darkness333.** followed by the usual suffix (I would put the whole thing but the site would filter it)).  
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**Edit #2: I went through and switched from line breaks to my own ones since most of the site's ones were missing. Oh, and sorry if any of you thought this was another proper update but I just wanted to give my pictorial benefactor the credit they deserve as well as drawing some attention to the picture.  
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* * *

(Last Time)

_When the tired and pained teenage weapon finally came to a stop in a densely planted area, he knelt down and waited. He could see through the thick blanket of leaves above him that the sun was just pushing past the horizon. Already the familiar feeling of the mental seals on Shukaku weakening sprang to the forefront of his mind but then it was something different. As the last glimmers of solar light burst across the red-head's vision, he could feel a change occurring, but not as it had during the last lunar cycle or ever before. _

_Collapsing to the floor, Gaara's last coherent thoughts were of fear and uncertainty at this new sensation that was so foreign to him. The seals on Shukaku weren't dissolving, but rather changing and transforming into something unrecognisable. But this unexpected change did not stop Gaara from feeling a change going through him as he lost consciousness, only to wake up an hour or so later._

_Things were not right…_

* * *

'My head hurts...'

Oh dear gods, his head hurt, like it had been cracked open and sewn back up a hundred times by the snake Sannin for fun. And his legs hurt too…

These insightful musings were some of the first thoughts at the surface of Gaara's otherwise blank mind when he regained consciousness on the cold, hard forest floor. The demon-jailor took a few moments to clear his head of the useless self-assessing thoughts he'd been fixating on in his stupor, so that he could take stock of where he was and how he had gotten there. It didn't take at all long for Gaara to recall his evening jog run in the woods followed by the disturbing sensation he'd experienced shortly before passing out rather unexpectedly. Gaara looked around the densely vegetated area he was now standing in, but what he saw didn't quite match up with the memory he had of the area from when he had arrived there only an hour ago, or so he guessed judging by the darkness of the sky and the position of the bright full-moon.

The area wasn't completely different; in fact, it looked perfectly familiar, just… wrong. The still groggy teenager spent a few more moments processing what he was seeing and then it all clicked, like the cocking of a pump-action shotgun; and the realisation that followed was just as pleasant as what one might expect to follow after hearing the distinctive cocking of said gun. The surroundings he found himself in were indeed exactly the same in appearance; just as they were when he had fallen asleep earlier that evening, but now that he looked closely, really closely, he saw that they were at least twice as big as they had been. As astute as Gaara was during the majority of his exploits, it took even longer for him to realise that it wasn't that the woods had grown through some genjutsu or through use of the Mokuton bloodline, both of which existing only in his world and the latter being extinct as far as he knew; no, the fact was that the trees and bushes around him hadn't grown bigger but rather he'd shrunk, to about half his original size.

'Oh...great…'

Gaara had never been a tall child and even into his teenage years he'd retained his diminutive stature, which his sister had often argued was as a result of his lack of sleep when Kankuro would tease the Jinchūriki about his size; of course, his older brother wasn't stupid or suicidal enough to actually make any disparaging remarks about Gaara to his face as the red-head still had anger control issues from time to time. However, now that Gaara was effectively half his old height, it gave him a whole new appreciation for his previously _relatively_ short body when opposed to this new miniature one.

Now, there was just one immediately pressing mystery left for him to solve: 'What's that, moving behind my head?'

Turning around, Gaara didn't see anything other than the obnoxiously tall bushes that he'd expected to find; but then, there it was again, the unknown fur-covered creature brushing against the back of his head softly, flattening the hair on the nape of his neck. Whipping around again and again produced nothing more than a dizzy mini-Gaara and no sign of whatever foolish animal was playing tricks on him. Deciding to cut this vexatious game short, lest he trip on the circus tent he was wearing, Gaara dug his hand into his now oversized clothes, which were so baggy on him he had trouble routing through the folds, before he produced a handful of sand without so much as looking down at it. He flexed his usual control over the sand and he waited for it to rise into his view so he could restrain (read: attack) the nuisance that was bothering him during what was already a difficult time; but the creature's discovery, unbeknownst to Gaara, was going to lead to even more tribulation on his part.

It took Gaara no longer than a second to realise that the sand he had commanded had failed to rise as instructed or even stir, except for the small amounts trickling between his fingers and falling to the forest floor. When Gaara looked down to diagnose the origin of the problem, he was hit by two revelations: the first of which was an unwelcome discovery that filled him with dread, and the second was one of self-disparagement at not having noticed the first one sooner.

As the shinobi had looked down at his hands, he had realised, with dire consternation, what was brushing the back of his neck; the very same thing that gave a responsive twitch as he concentrated on its movements. It became all too clear as he stared down at the fuzzy paws, complete with digital pads, where his hands _should_ have been. He turned them over to look at the other side of the sandy coloured fur that covered the appendages that apparently belonged to him. Out of desperation more than logic, he brought his paws up to his fluffy chest and tried to dispel the horrible genjutsu someone had used on him, only to find that he wasn't in any genjutsu nor was he still asleep, as the highly acclaimed ninja test of pinching oneself proved, a task made all the more difficult because of the small size and almost rounded shape of the digits he was using. The equally fluffy, if not more so, tail that had been brushing against the back of his head, came into view when he honed-in on the tail's sensations. It was as he feared; he'd turned into a mini-furry-Shukaku. The enormous racoon tail that was similarly sand coloured and featured the characteristic blue swirls all over it just about proved that it was the same as the accursed demon inside of him. Funnily enough, he couldn't hear the demon's ranting and raving at the moment, but he had bigger problems than the unusual silence of his normally rambunctious tenant, namely his size and loss of sand control, equating to defencelessness for the shinobi who had once bragged of having the ultimate defence.

Ever the pragmatist, to the extent that he could adapt seamlessly to a new world in moments, Gaara didn't dwell on what he desperately hoped was a temporary change as he now had to focus on how he, as a small and fluffy tanuki-human with no chakra control or special powers, was going to survive the entire night in the infamously dangerous and aptly named Forbidden Forest. It appeared that he wasn't a full-fledged tanuki; thankfully, when he considered certain tanuki body-parts that would've made running a trifle more difficult. Also, he thanked whatever gods may be that he didn't have to cope without opposable thumbs during this troublesome ordeal, no matter how small the thumbs he had were. Apart from his height, stubby fingered paws and tail that was easily a foot taller than him on its own, Gaara appeared to have a fairly humanoid body, with the added bonus of surprisingly warm sand-coloured fur with the same blue markings as those on his tail, though sparser it seemed as he looked over his new body

And people said Gaara was a pessimist; at least he was warm…

Gaara replaced the sand in his pocket, ready for the morning when he would transform back if he had any good luck going for him at all. After his lifeline was secure, he shed all of his oversized clothes completely, as they would do nothing but hinder his movement and identify him as the vulnerable Hogwarts student he currently was; besides, he _was_ covered in fur to keep him warm so he didn't see the harm in leaving his folded clothes in the hollowed-out base of a nearby tree for the time being. With a few scratches around said tree as well as surrounding trees to guide him back to his garments when the sun was to rise, courtesy of his newly discovered and auspiciously sharp claws, Gaara didn't have to worry about his clothes being lost when the time came.

One feature that Gaara found to be even more irksome than his further diminished procerity, were his newly discovered digitigrade legs that made him feel like he was walking on his tiptoes constantly. He had trouble taking more than a few steps without teetering and falling when his concentration and balance wavered in the slightest. Like the canid he had transformed into, Gaara's new back legs now had shorter thighs and calves and longer feet, meaning he now had to perform a sort of shuffle to walk forwards rather than actual stepping. As Gaara had dropped off his clothes, he resolved to find out how to walk around properly with his incommodiously short digitigrade legs.

The final alteration that he noticed was that he could make some unintelligible sounds out of his previously heavily damaged throat. It seemed that this form completely regenerated his vocal cords, unfortunately it also appeared that he could not speak any coherent human words without sounding like a dog performing a trick, as this voice box wasn't built to speak, merely growl, whine and create any number of other animalistic sounds. Still, it was nice to be able to make himself heard again, even if it was nonsense and incoherent guttural noises and the occasional angry gnarl of frustration when he fell over again and again.

Walking wasn't at all difficult once he'd gotten used to ambling around on his new legs; running, on the other hand, was arduous if not impossible whilst carrying the considerable weight of his tail with him. The weight didn't make any sense to Gaara, as, when he had squeezed the soft extremity, he'd discovered that it was almost all fur, only a thin flesh and bone tail in the centre of the appendage that, including fuzz, was wider than his torso, at the tip. No matter how soft the thing felt when Gaara squeezed it to his chest with both arms, when it swayed to and fro behind him and hit a bush or tree sapling, the thing it hit was blown back as if it had been impacted with a large stone club. It was some measure of a consolation that he at least had a weapon of sorts with him, even if it was a large fluffy bat attached to his backside. Still, he didn't like his chances in a fight with only his teeny tiny claws, however sharp they might be, so the club was a reassurance.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Rubeus Hagrid was a caring man who tried in earnest to keep all of the animals under his watch in the safest condition he could, at the cost of his own health at times. Tonight was the full moon and that meant that the newest addition to the teaching staff of Hogwarts, other than him, was indisposed in the worst and most dangerous manner imaginable. With the threat of the ferocious wolf running around in the woods every month, Hagrid had been assured that the monster would keep well away from all of his precious creatures, like the very ones he was leading away at the moment because the bloodthirsty werewolf _had_ strayed near their herd and Hagrid didn't want to risk their safety. The experienced groundskeeper didn't mind the stigma attached to thestrals, nor did he let it deter him from his duty to them. He was well away from where he had heard the wolf's cries and now felt that he could let the so-called death-creatures wander freely for the remainder of the night without them running into any lunar-related animals.

As he threw the pheasants he'd been using to lure the abnormally obstinate winged horses away with him, Hagrid saw a strange little thing out of the corner of his eye. It looked so short that, as it walked on its two hind legs, it probably wouldn't be tall enough to stare at his belt-buckle directly, though its massive tail would probably reach the bottom of his beard easily if it was pointed straight upwards. Needless to say, Hagrid was already fascinated by it. The thestrals didn't object to their new surroundings as they galloped off together, fighting over the offerings of dead birds and a few dead ferrets Hagrid had been planning to give to his Hippogriffs on account of their good behaviour in his classes, but he wouldn't have trouble catching more so he didn't see the harm. In the mean time, however, he was going to be hunting for something bigger and infinitely more interesting than ferrets, and appeared to be even more terrified of him than them.

It wasn't like he wanted to catch or kill the small, fluffy animal, whatever it was; he just wanted to have a look at the sandy-coloured mammal. It was incredibly odd to see a new creature in the forest he'd been patrolling for decades, but even odder was that the thing was running on two legs and looked almost humanoid in its panicked movements away from him, though his comparisons to humans ended there as he watched the creature trip or fall over after every few strides.

Hagrid jogged as gently as a half-giant could after the strange animal that had captured his interest. Every once in a while he would see whatever he was chasing before it would disappear behind a tree or some roots. Hagrid chased the poor thing for well over an hour, never getting closer than thirty feet or so. Eventually he thought he might catch the scared little critter as it ran into a clearing, which was a relief to the tired man, but as luck would have it, in that very clearing stood the entire herd of thestrals he'd released earlier on. The strange light-brown creature seemed to hesitate at the sight of the thestrals, Hagrid noted, before it apparently cut its losses and ran straight into the midst of them. Hagrid feared the tiny and defenceless morsel would become an after-dinner snack for the emaciated carnivorous horse-monsters.

What the oafish man didn't expect was for the thestrals to crowd around the thing and block it from his view. Hagrid tried to push through them or to get them to disperse in case they were indeed eating the defenceless animal in there, but every time he managed to shift one thestral, another would take its place and the moved one would rejoin the herd further away. Hagrid was reluctant to leave but the thestrals were not docile when angered and he couldn't take on twenty of them when angry just to examine an idle curiosity. Plus, there was a good chance that whatever it was would be around the next night if it had survived this long in the huddle, so he would just have to let it be and hope it stayed alive.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Gaara's midnight run hadn't been nearly as relaxed as Hagrid's had been, the tanuki-boy having had to sprint at top speed when he saw his Care of Magical Creatures professor chasing after him. Whilst his miniature form had the major drawback of shorter legs, meaning he was no way near his top speed in human form, furry-Gaara's stamina made up for this shortfall quite adequately, as, even after an hour, he still wasn't out of breath. Another problem Gaara had in his fluffy form was that his tail threw off his weighting, meaning every few metres he'd fall over or stumble. Destroying any hope of quickly developing the ability to run despite these drawbacks were the hateable legs he was attempting to run with. The abnormal joints and smaller surface area on which to spread his weight was completely at odds with his experience and physical memory of walking and running and so he spent almost as much time on the ground as he did running along it. It was downright embarrassing for a ninja of his calibre to be suffering these indignities.

Gaara ducked and dived as quickly as his training in stealth and evasion had taught him to in order to avoid his teacher and the obviously awkward questions that would be incurred by his capture. He thought he'd run out of luck when he stumbled into a clearing in the middle of the woods filled with the skeletal horses that he had seen draw the carts that carried the students from the train station to the castle a few weeks prior. He stopped himself, falling over again from the inertia, trying to remember if he had heard the beasts before him be described along the lines of 'small-tanuki-eating winged horses'. Deciding the risk would actually be worth keeping this secret safe, lest it become common knowledge that he was weakened once a month, Gaara started again towards the thestrals, planning to cut straight through them and keep running. To his astonishment, though, he was welcomed into the herd that parted to allow him access and closed off around him, giving him a protective barrier of, apparently, non-small-tanuki-eating winged horses; they were even careful not to stand on him or his sensitive tail. He'd discovered just how sensitive his tail was when he'd tried running with the thing in his arms and had cut into it a little with his claws. He would rather fall over with the thing swaying around behind him than cut it again.

The tanuki-boy waited with baited breath, as Hagrid tried to force his way into the herd, and only let out the breath he would never admit to holding in when the colossal man gave up and walked away with a dejected slump in his broad shoulders. Gaara disliked disappointing the obviously fanatical man, but his secret was now something he had to protect at any cost if he was retain both his safety and, maybe more importantly, his dignity. He was Sabaku no Gaara, he didn't do small and fluffy!

When the magical beasts were alone in the clearing, transformed and non, Gaara felt it was safe enough to leave his temporary bodyguards and continue onwards. He had all night to look around and he didn't like how the smaller, overly friendly, thestrals were nuzzling against his fluffy tail; it was unsettling to say the least. Leaving the inordinately affectionate animals, Gaara stumbled out from the forest of horse-like legs and back into the real forest to explore, and figure out exactly what he'd been turned into.

When he'd found a quiet place where he would be safe for a few moments, a cosy little alcove under a tree, Gaara sat down awkwardly and attempted to enter his mindscape to question the monster that was undoubtedly to blame for his confounded new form. The little fluffy serial killer was further irked when he couldn't enter his mind like usual. If he was to turn back to his human form in the morning, he would spend a lengthy spell in his mind talking to his detainee, but until then he would just try to stay alive.

Gaara decided that self-preservation without sand was much simpler given the ability to run, so he put his full energies into developing that difficult yet vital skill. He spent a pain-filled hour trying in vain to run on his back legs like he had always as a human but that inevitably ended with him falling flat on his face, or on his back when he'd tried to stretch his…his tail out fully backwards. No matter what he tried or how he positioned his lead weight of a tail, he just couldn't run. He could walk just fine, if a little wobbly because of the new legs ending in paws that were still very foreign to him. Frankly, Gaara had had an idea of how he could move more quickly some time ago, but despite the desperate circumstances he was presented with, he couldn't bring himself to try it.

As Gaara, panting with his tongue hanging out like some stray dog, lay on the dewy midnight ground, he finally surrendered to his instincts and rolled over onto his front. Pushing against the ground with his hands/paws, Gaara moved his legs under him until he was on all fours. It was a strange feeling, now that his legs and arms were the same length, even more so as the position was infinitely more comfortable than his regular posture, which he'd tried to keep in this foreign form. Taking an experimental few steps forward, this animalistic stride was indeed much easier than his human one. With a deep breath and a low crouch before, Gaara set off in his first successful run in this bestial form. It was certainly exhilarating, if nothing else; Gaara was bounding along much faster than he could hope to run in his human form, though he wasn't about to be thankful for this dislikeable turn of events.

When he'd finished his, admittedly fast, run, Gaara stopped off near a small lake in the middle of the woods. He wasn't going to drink from it, his pride had suffered enough blows for one night, but the water's still and reflective surface would serve another useful purpose. Peering into the mirror-like lake, Gaara was finally able to see just how bad his transformation had been.

It was bad.

He still had his red hair on the top of his head and his green eyes, which was a comfort of sorts as he had briefly feared that he would have Shukaku's distinctive demonic irises. Under his fringe lay his tattoo, his reminder. The only other facial feature that he recognised as himself were the permanent dark circles around his eyes, though they had become much more pronounced than they had been before, which was saying something. The tattoo, now that he looked closely, inching towards the water's edge, looked blurred and faded, which was to be expected as was the darkening of the black circles around his eyes, when he saw that, unlike before when they were simple skin pigmentations or modifications, they were now colourations of his fur.

Gaara's eyes were then drawn to where his human ears had disappeared from, only for them to be replaced by large tanuki ones, much like Shukaku's own, including the blue tips. He was annoyed to find that they, like his tail, twitched and reacted to his mood as shown by their current downward pointing position, displaying his predictably negative feelings. What was worse was that they were much larger than Shukaku's miniature ears, drooping down almost to Gaara's slumped shoulders.

His entire body was covered in the soft, fine, sandy-coloured fur, including his face which now looked more animal than human, even having a muzzle rather than just a regular nose, and on the end of said muzzle sat a small pink rhinarium. The blue markings present on all of his body, so much like those found on Shukaku's body, also seemed to be arranged so that they centred in on Gaara's belly which he was glad to see didn't have the same exaggerated rotund appearance that his unwelcome tenant had; instead, the markings swirled around the seal on his stomach. The seal, like his tattoo and the signs of his insomnia and possession, was in the colouration of his fur now and so didn't disappear when he stopped channelling chakra, not that he could use any chakra in this form. The only thing left to examine was his gigantic tail which he had had to look behind himself to see before, and only now could he truly appreciate its enormous size and girth next to his laughably tiny body.

Now satisfied that he knew at least what he was dealing with, Gaara moved away from his temporary mirror in order to perfect the running he should've mastered in his infancy and also to see the extent of his tail's formidable power when he used it as an almighty club.

The running didn't take as long to learn as he had feared, being largely instinctual when he ran on all four paws, but the tail swinging was more difficult it seemed, as more than once he found himself losing his footing when the weight of it was moved too quickly or too far away from his centre of gravity. What he was happy to see was that the tail was actually able to leave a sizable dent in the bark of a tree he hit it with. Gaara had little doubt that if he had to, he could easily wind somebody with this useful appendage, which was a welcome thought despite his previous abilities overshadowing this by no small measure.

Through this fascinating learning experience, Gaara had regrettably neglected to keep his sensitive fuzzy ears, now perked up in excitement, concentrated on his surroundings and so missed the ominous wheezing sound nearing him at an alarming speed. Only when the temperature plummeted and his fur bristled in warning did Gaara finally notice the dementor that was now floating down from the canopy, focussed on Gaara. The small fluffy creature weighed up his severely limited options in an instant: fight or flight. Considering his fighting capabilities were currently limited to his sharp yet tiny claws and his humongous tail, both of which were completely useless against a dementor, which he had seen in the past recover from even the most brutal blunt-force traumas, only dying when it was pierced through the head, which was an impossible task for his woefully short claws.

As his options, however limited, flew through his mind, Gaara watched the nightmarish monster descend upon him. The ghoulish entity swooped down on the shivering Gaara, though he would deny that assessment to the bitter end, with all of the grace one would expect from the Grim Reaper reconnecting with an old acquaintance. By the time he had clearly assessed the situation, once he was able to fight back the fear that was so foreign to him having had a solid stone wall of protection surrounding him all of his life, Gaara realised that he had no options left to him; he could not fight for lack of strength and weapons, and he could not run because the abomination in front of him was clearly much faster and stronger than him at the moment. Gaara could only remember one other time in his life when he had been completely defenceless and helpless, when he had lost to the boy who was just like him, on the day of the Chunin exam finals. Although the fight had technically been a draw, neither party officially losing, Gaara knew he had lost then, and now he had lost again and for the same reason, because he had no one to rely upon; but this time he didn't have his brother and sister to drop down and protect him in his moment of vulnerability, he was once again alone in the world because he had failed to trust someone, anyone, yet again.

Not one to go out without some measure of a fight, Gaara got up onto his back legs and prepared himself for his very own miniature battle of Thermopylae, ready to fight until the bitter end. The dementor took one final passing sweep towards the snarling mini-bijū before it abruptly turned and began to move back towards the tree tops, seemingly disinterested with the angry little animal.

Whilst Gaara watched what he had been sure was finally going to kill him fly back into the blackened sky, he fell backwards onto his tail, which made for a comfortable beanbag-style seat, in a sudden moment overwhelmed shock. He couldn't believe he'd survived another near death experience. By the way the dementors had been drawn to him in the past, he'd assumed they were attracted to the power he held within him, but apparently he'd been mistaken; either he was mistaken or dementors couldn't sense the souls of animals, but that was obviously not right. Who would employ prison guards that didn't account for any animals?

Gaara spent the rest of the night roaming around the woods, avoiding any and all noises he heard for fear of smarter dementors that might finish the job of the last one that had almost scared him to death. By the end of the night, Gaara was happy to note that he had mastered running again; then again, he wasn't going to go and shout about his mastery of running on all fours, but he was still secretly pleased, even allowing a small smirk to appear on his canid face, briefly revealing the rows of tiny razor sharp teeth, before disappearing again.

As the black of night began to turn into dark blue, Gaara started on his way back to wherever he had left his clothes at the beginning of his latest 'adventure'. Once again, his thoughts were dragged back to whether or not he would indeed turn back into a human in an hour or so when the sun peaked over the horizon, otherwise he was going to have a much more problematic time ahead of him, like the explanations he would have to make, and trying to turn back through his own power or with help from another. Before he could worry any more about his form, Gaara had a more imminent problem that he had underestimated earlier on, and that was how difficult it was to trace his steps back to where he'd left his clothes, especially when he had fled in a panic from his professor. On that note, he would have to be careful around Professor Hagrid for the next few days so that he wasn't recognised inadvertently for the similarities between his true form and this one.

It took a lot longer than Gaara had expected to find his discarded garments, which were very cold and dewy after a long night in the burrow of a tree. Nevertheless, he waited on baited breath for the sun to finally show its face and let him turn back into a human. As the blinding white light of the nearest star rose into sight, Gaara felt the more than welcome and so very familiar feeling of changing, like he had at the beginning of the night and he did not fight the sensation as it spread over his small body.

Unlike before, though, the human weapon didn't pass out during the transformation, so he got to experience the strange and uncomfortable sensation of his body physically morphing into a different form. As the fur crept back into his skin and his tail receded in his spine, Gaara felt his bones creak as they too became human again, reverting to their regular size and shape. The experience was not painless, it was not quick and it was not fun, but once it was over and done with, Gaara was better off for it as far as he was concerned.

Sluggishly, the newly formed body picked itself off of the ground, letting go a sigh of relief at seeing his body once again in the correct shape, and stumbled over to his waiting clothes as quickly as he could. He put on his damp clothes eagerly, having had quite enough of the freezing morning air in direct contact with his skin. Fighting off a shiver as he dressed himself, he did a once-over to check there were no lasting effects of his transformation, to which he thankfully found none, other than his sore throat. An experimental attempted hum proved that his voice was still lost to him, disappointingly.

Now dressed and ready to make the long (and apparently unnecessary) walk back to the castle, Gaara called the sand out of his pocket with the ease gained from years of repetition and cast his long-awaited _Third Eye_ technique. He sent the orb into the air, so high that, when activated, he could see tens of miles all around him; he really was a very long way away from Hogwarts. He immediately started off running and hopping. If he was lucky, he would make it back to the castle in time for lunch, as he was feeling incredibly fatigued from all of the exertions in the last twelve hours and could do with a good meal. Luckily, it seemed he had not forgotten how to run as a human after a night on all fours. When the trees became a little denser, Gaara leapt up to one of the branches before jumping onwards from tree to tree, making much better time than he had on his way outwards.

As he flew through the air, periodically bouncing off of another thick tree branch, Gaara wondered why there seemed to be so few animals in the forest. Even normal forests back in his world had more wildlife than this one, and this was supposed to be the 'Forbidden Forest', named so because of all of the dangerous and dark creatures there; but so far that night, he'd only encountered a herd of overly friendly winged horses and the gigantic groundskeeper, neither of which seemed all that scary to the boy who had fought a toad the size of Hogwarts and lived. Where all of the deadly animals he'd been told about were, he didn't know, but it seemed a little misleading nonetheless.

His question was answered all too soon when the trees became too far in-between to jump across efficiently, and he was forced to move along the earth again. As he continued to run, wondering idly how he was going to explain his absence upon his return, Gaara felt a familiar rumbling. It wasn't his stomach...well, it mostly wasn't his stomach; the almost quaking ground reminded him of the last time he'd had to trek back through the forest after his fall off his feathered transportation, but that time he had needed medical attention too urgently to check it out. This time the rumbling was coming from the general direction of the castle, meaning it was in his path anyway and he could fight off most regular animals with just the small amount of sand he was carrying, so he wasn't worried in any case, and taking a detour to avoid it wouldn't be nearly as interesting.

Gaara began to slow down as the rumbling intensified; he noticed that the deafening noise was oscillating slowly and steadily. Gaara wasn't usually one to succumb to curiosity like this, being too sensible for such treacherous actions, but living in a world where he was treated like a child had apparently worn down his resistance to his immature impulses. As he walked into an area clearly inhabited by a large animal, if the compacted soil and snapped twigs were any indication, Gaara began to work out what the rumbling he was approaching was. He had definitely heard it before in his own world, albeit much quieter, but couldn't quite place it.

When the rumbling was interrupted by a loud and vulgar snort, Gaara remembered the first time he had heard the annoying noise. Annoying, because he had first heard it when he was eight years-old, living in Kankuro and Temari's apartment, and he had managed to wrestle Shukaku into getting an hour of real sleep without demonic possession, one rare night. He had been asleep for less than half an hour when he was awoken by the very same rumbling, coming from his brother's room. Needless to say that Gaara had not been happy, being woken up by Kankuro's loud snores. The teenage puppet-user had had a narrow escape that night as Gaara tried in earnest to kill his kin for snoring too loudly. That night taught Kankuro never to sleep on his back ever again.

Now that Gaara knew he was approaching a snoring giant, he became a touch more wary, knowing that anything large enough to snore that deafeningly loud would have to be a veritable behemoth. Still, he'd come this far, he'd been hungrier before and he'd already missed the first few hours of school, so he really wasn't in any hurry to get there, and he could defend himself adequately. Compared to his previous state, Gaara was feeling positively invincible.

He continued forward into the creature's den, but had to do a double-take, an action he disliked performing, after he saw what he had assumed was an abandoned hot tub. As he looked again, paying closer scrutiny to the object, he saw that it was in fact a giant food bowl. It didn't take a prodigious shinobi to realise that whatever he was walking towards was truly enormous. He heard shuffling just a little further on, so he didn't get an opportunity to read the creature's name off of the side of the dish as he pressed onwards.

Then he saw _it_.

He had heard of this creature before, or something like it, in his world, as a myth of course, or should he say these creatures. He stared across at the three faces connected to three necks connected to one body and thought it might be the single largest dog he'd ever seen. The enormous brown, three-headed, Staffordshire bull-terrier was clearly asleep, curiously only two of the heads were snoring, the one in the middle was sleeping silently with a snot-bubble the size of Gaara's head inflating and deflating in time with the dog's heavy breathing. Deciding his curiosity had been sated sufficiently, Gaara concluded he should let sleeping three-headed dogs lie and make a hasty retreat before he woke the beast/s up. Fighting a dog that large with that many mouths could be hazardous to his health.

He didn't make it more than five steps back before he heard the heavy rhythmic breathing hitch and a deep grumbling sound replace it. Turning around, Gaara saw what he had hoped he would not; his just desserts for listening to his demons, the figurative ones; the real one was now calling for him to use its chakra to save the both of them. Oh, how nice it was to hear the old voices in his head again.

The Cerberus had definitely woken up and didn't look too happy about the tiny wake-up call that was still slowly retreating. Gaara's mind quickly began to work on how he could defeat the hellish dog with the minute amount of sand he had on his person. Deciding he had no choice but to kill the beast, he hardened the sand into a foot long, razor sharp spike and readied it to be fired off into the dogs' waiting heart. The animal turned all three of its heads into the air and took a sniff before turning back to Gaara with a determined look set upon all of its faces. The appetiser of a boy watched it slowly stalk towards him but didn't fire off his sand, knowing he only had one shot in which to kill the canine and could ill afford to miss.

As the three giant heads bore down on Gaara's still form, they gave one more sniff before opening their mouths, their mouths filled with enormous, pointy teeth and the stench of decaying meat. Gaara, for his part, was staying absolutely still on the off chance that the dog would tire of him and he wouldn't need to kill it. The mouths, each big enough for him to climb inside of comfortably, positioned themselves all around him, showing that they were indeed going to attack. The encircling mouths moved in closer to the boy, as said boy raised his hand in preparation to fire the sand-senbon through the central head's throat and into where its heart should be.

And then it all came to a head when Gaara felt his left side heat up suddenly, feeling almost on fire with the burning warmth before his right followed suit. His vision went black and he still didn't fire his weapon. When the warmth left him, Gaara disgustedly felt how wet the three gigantic tongues had left him after their joyful licking of his entire body. Lowering his arm slowly, reluctantly, Gaara saw and smelt the panting and excited dog before him, wearing no malevolent expressions, just doggish joy. He considered still attacking the dog for the grievous insult to his already bruised ego, as the enormous patches of dog saliva dripped to the ground, but couldn't bring himself to do it when the dogs sat back on their haunches and looked at him expectantly with absolutely no malice on their faces.

Gaara had no idea why the animals of this world were so enamoured with him, but he wasn't sure whether it was a blessing or a curse as he continued on his way, ignoring the dogs' pained whines at being left alone again. Gaara wasn't an animal person anyway, having been scorned by one too many animals in his own world who would try to attack him after sensing the malicious chakra he held. Then there was the incident in his youth when he had been lusting after blood and came across the zoo... Still, Gaara had no real hatred for animals, so his grudge against the sad looking and friendly acting dog couldn't withstand the soft nudging his back received every few steps from the right head's nose. Turning around, Gaara lessened his glare at the oversized puppy and patted each dog's nose in a friendly gesture with the hope that the dog would then leave him alone after being shown some kindness.

Apparently not.

Even as he continued on his way, the uproarious sounds of the dog attempting to follow him inconspicuously was noticeable to say the least, so Gaara turned around again, with a measured reluctance, to address the _issue_. He couldn't very well bring the giant mutt back to the castle, even if it was a pet of one of the professors, so he tried to think of a quick and humane solution to his problem so he could leave and wash off the copious amounts of saliva he was plastered in as quick as possible. He soon came up with an idea that might just work. Standing at his full height, which wasn't all that impressive to begin with, and turning on his Death Glare, he looked in the central dog's eyes and pointed at the floor in the harshest and most menacing manner he could. The dogs' heads, with their ears down flat, immediately bowed all three heads and sat back down as per Gaara's silent command. The mute teen was happy with this result as it meant that dog was trained to some degree at least and would respond to non-verbal commands.

Gaara, in yet another and seemingly increasingly frequent spur of childish enthrallment and curiosity, tried a few more simple command-gestures like 'lie down' and 'roll over' before he realised he'd wasted much more time than he should have allowed himself to, playing with a possibly stray dog. Telling the dog to stay, Gaara patted each of the Cerberus' heads, having to jump a little each time, before leaving quickly and ever-quietly. He could hear the dogs whine pathetically for the next mile of his trek, before it was cut off by a few resounding barks and a heavy thudding that faded fast as they both moved further away from one another.

As he continued running, deciding against washing off for the moment when he saw the edges of the one of the ponds he passed over frosted lightly, telling him just how cold the water was likely to be, Gaara smiled at the thought that popped into his head suddenly, of training the overgrown puppy to fight for him like a summon animal. He could just imagine it running towards his enemy and then running back just as fast with its tail between its legs.

By the time Gaara reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the dog saliva that had covered him, literally from head to toe, was almost dry, thanks to the shining sun and the freezing autumn wind that he had been running against for the past half hour. Gaara had been happily surprised when he hadn't been engaged by any dementors on his return journey. The mute red-head was beginning to seriously doubt the wizarding world's security if their prison guards couldn't sense animals and didn't come out when the sun was shining. But he was probably just over thinking things.

Another worrying point was that he was effectively sneaking back into Hogwarts in the middle of the day and so far no one had seen him or questioned his motives, or even noticed his re-entry. If he was a rogue, escaped mass-murderer, like some people he could mention, Gaara could have already snuck into the school and killed Harry Potter and half a dozen other people and escaped again, all within ten minutes. He was almost tempted to prove his point, but that wasn't what he did anymore, even if the boy was annoying.

Though, while it had seemed so very easy to slip into Hogwarts, past all of the supposed wards and protections, getting past the hoards of students and the occasional teacher was not so simple. Gaara had never specialised in stealth, that was Kankuro's forte, he was a frontline fighter, so he was not in his element as he evaded detection. Sure, he could fight his way in, but that wasn't really the subtle entrance he was working towards. It took him nearly thirty minutes to actually enter the castle, having had to find an entrance that wasn't filled with students chatting endlessly and apparently without regard for their classes.

The reason the 'heavy artillery' was attempting to sneak into the castle, other than the probable fear his sudden appearance might induce in any nearby students, was because he hadn't exactly signed-out the night before and his entering back into the castle would strongly imply that he had, at some point, left the castle without permission. This discovery could lead to all sorts of related rule-breaking he had undertaken the night before, not least his assault on Draco Malfoy and his killing several dementors on his way into the _Forbidden_ Forest, to name a few. Then there was the slight chance that someone might connect his stalking off into the forest with Hagrid's accounts of a strange new animal. All in all, it was certainly wisest to take the path of secrecy on this one and just not say a word about what he had been up to the night before, not that he could say anything anyway, though this would just make his silence on the matter all the easier.

It took even longer to get back into the dungeons, having to go so far as to knock out three or four more students, all Slytherins, on his way to enter the common room. Gaara figured, since he was already on the line for knocking out his roommate, there really wasn't much harm in sending a few housemates, who had decided to spend their lunch break in their common room, to an early night's rest at one o'clock in the afternoon. From the common room, Gaara then had to throw a smoke bomb into the corridor leading to the dorms; luckily, everyone present was convinced that this 'prank' was perpetrated by the notorious Weasley Twins. The twins later denied this accusation fiercely, upset by the audacity of a fellow prankster hitting Slytherin before they had a chance to, that year. Fred and George decided then that they would have to do something big to regain their, imaginary, titles of 'Lord Pranksters' after being shown up not once but twice.

Meanwhile, Gaara had slipped into his shared room and deposited the tiny amount of sand he had carried with him, into his dearly missed gourd. Every time he left his sand he always regretted it. Knowing he had at least a few hours before Draco returned from classes or dinner, Gaara changed into his bed clothes after wiping the last of the dog spit from his person and readied himself to confront the beast within. It didn't help that the act of getting into his pajamas made the stoic ninja remember the time a certain _someone_ had decided no Jinchūriki should be without a goofy nightcap made to look like something eating your head. Despite his clear and reasonable objections to wearing the abomination, Gaara had worn it that one time to stop his 'most generous' friend sulking and pouting all mission long. Those joint Konoha-Suna missions were trying times. Soon, Gaara was able to clear his head of... distractions, and then he was ready. Sitting down on his bed, he called his sand to attention so that it would be ready to protect him instantly should any threat appear while he was out.

Closing his tired, blackened eyes, Gaara concentrated like he had done in the forest; this time, however, he successfully found himself in the desert of his mind, complete with a sandstorm on the horizon and the nearby red-rocked cave, his destination. Gaara walked into the sheltering cave and continued downwards until he came upon his hidden burden.

It seemed he wasn't the only one to suffer the night before.

Enormous pillars of sand, acting as a barrier to his conscious mind, used to stand like bars to a great cage across the cave, but now those bars were gone and Shukaku was stood flat against the wall. Well, the beast didn't have much of a choice in his position as his giant hands appeared to have been impaled, by equally large nails of sand, to the bedrock behind them. As soon as the captive caught sight of his warden, having previously been too distracted by the pain to notice him coming, he began to howl and scream with such fury that had not been seen since his days as the boy's stand-in mother, demanding blood sacrifices and the like. Gaara didn't hold any sympathy for the monster before him, remembering the pain it had caused him and the fact that it would heal as soon as the nails were removed, still, he did wince every time the tanuki pulled at the bonds only to yelp and roar with pain. The worst part was that despite the obvious agony caused, Shukaku kept on pulling against them, eliciting more shrieks of tortured anguish.

Gaara didn't know if his demon was just tenacious, or doing it to make him cringe.

Ignoring his discomfort, hearing such familiar sounds, Gaara waited for Shukaku to finish his wailing so that he could find out what exactly had happened inside of his mind and soul. He had never heard of a seal spontaneously changing like this, but then he had also never heard of a shinobi travelling across worlds like he had. Eventually, after what honestly seemed like hours, the Ichibi finished and slumped down against his restraints, breathing in long heavy breaths.

"What happened?" Gaara asked in his usual direct manner after the longest time, his patience having lost out to his impertinence.

"Waddya mean 'what happened'!?" Shukaku roared at its host, pulling against its restraints again to try and attack, over and over. "My hands've been nailed to a wall, you stupid little weapon!"

"You don't know what happened, then?" Gaara asked.

"Well," Shukaku had a most disturbing smirk set into his maw as he considered his words, "I don't know _why_ that happened last night, but I most certainly did see it. I watched the whole night out of your eyes." Gaara stilled, realising the demon now had material for annoying him for years to come. He prepared himself for what was to come. "You were absolutely adorable! Such a cute baby tanuki! Remember, you need to eat all of your humans if you want to grow up big and strong like ya mama!"

Gaara winced as the roars of laughter exceeded the earlier pained screams in intensity.

"I can't wait for next month, you make almost as bad a tanuki as you do a human!"

"Be quiet."

"Admit it, you're going soft. You're getting weak. Soon enough, one of these real humans is going to come and kill you. They'll end your existence and you'll have never existed. Hell, that cloaked thing last night almost finished you off."

"The weakness last night was because of the form. On my way out, I killed several dementors with ease. The only weakness I have is that I am still alone."

"You'll stay alone! Kill them all, just like your mother told you to, like she wanted!"

Gaara looked up at the beast of scorn, considering him for a few moments before ever-calmly saying, "...I'm leaving."

As he walked out of the cave, he heard more jeers and mockery but paid them no heed whatsoever. He'd had his fill of dealing with Shukaku for the day, and his tiresome conversation had revealed little to him other than the fact that his beast could view events directly when he was transformed on the full moon; an altogether useless discovery.

When he was stood in the surface plains of his mind, Gaara closed his eye and waited to wake up.

Still sat in his bed, Gaara looked over to the 'magical' alarm clock and saw that it was just about dinner time for the rest of the school, though, he wasn't nearly hungry enough to warrant changing again or going through the arduous task of getting out of bed to eat yet, so he decided he'd just wait until breakfast. And this way he could postpone explaining his actions last night to his roommate. Either way it was going to be difficult task, but he was happy with later rather than sooner when concerned with the difficult and possibly embarrassing explanations he would have to give. Truth be told, things wouldn't be embarrassing at all, seeing as how the real humiliation would be kept to himself.

But they were only really excuses in the first place. He just didn't want to get out of bed.

Whilst he considered his explanation, no matter how flimsy any attempted excuse would end up being, he played about with his sand, manipulating the shape and his control over it. He soon grew tired with the same movements and practices so he looked around for something to amuse him whilst he waited for his inevitable chewing-out, then he had a thought. Drawing the handful of sand over to the corner of the room, the tanuki-host commanded the sand to grind against the stone of the wall and try to convert it into more sand. The stone was strong and resilient, but eventually it began to wear away, little by little and after five minutes of crushing and refining, during which he had pulled out another book, Gaara found that he had made another handful of sand, albeit in a darker colour. The visible damage to the wall was minimal and probably wouldn't be noticed in the shady corner. The sand he had created, he noticed, was a little more sluggish than his normal sand, it wouldn't impede his everyday movement of it, but it could hinder him if his were to fight seriously with it in large quantities. However, by spreading it thinly within his older sand and diffusing his unique chakra into the new sand, it seemed to act more normally.

Thinking again, Gaara realised that he wasn't likely going to be using large quantities of this sand, as he would literally need to tear down the castle to do so. He was fairly certain someone would miss a tower if it were to go missing; no matter how dilapidated some of the castle appeared to be at times.

Over an hour after Gaara had awoken from his communication with Shukaku, just about when dinner in the Great Hall was probably about to finish, Draco burst into the bedroom abruptly, startling Gaara a little from his seat on the bed, reading 'Hogwarts a History'. Before Gaara could question his roommate on his less than graceful entrance, in followed Severus Snape with a smug look of righteousness that disappeared quickly when he spotted the bewildered Gaara sitting in bed reading a book.

"You see, sir; he's been there all day!" Draco said as he regained his composure and tried to think of a way of looking down his nose at a man who was at least a foot and a half taller than him. He settled for a haughty look with an arched eyebrow.

Unknown to the two others, of all present Draco was the most surprised by far by Gaara's presence, but that just goes to show how well his father had taught him to maintain his composure even when he came upon obstacles like having to lie to everyone about how his roommate was ill in bed all day because said roommate had disappeared last night after somehow knocking him out and had not reappeared since.

Snape, to his credit, stayed largely calm after his suspicions were soundly proven incorrect about his current favourite verbal punching bag. He knew Gaara wasn't a lycanthrope, despite how satisfying that would have been, but his absence the day after a full moon was still a cause for concern. Still, there was no proof of wrongdoing, yet, and he had nothing to go on. He did, however, direct a suspicious glare at both the boys present, one of which who was still none the wiser about his close call with truancy. Seeing the innocence in Gaara's curious yet hardened eyes, Snape made one more frustrated growling sound before storming out in a huff.

Sagging a little now that the tension that had been building had dissipated, Gaara leaned back into his bed and raised his book again so that he could continue and avoid what was coming. Draco had other plans.

"What in Merlin's name did you do last night!?" To say that Draco looked furious would be to say that Orochimaru was ambitious, if the vein in the side of his head and accusatory glare was any indication at all. "I've spent all day lying about where you were, and you went and knocked me unconscious last night!"

"..."

"Snape was going to kill us if you hadn't been here." Draco was too proud to admit that he was a little hurt that his friend had saw fit to render him unconscious rather than tell him his problem; he wouldn't even admit to himself that he had been worried that his friend was hurt when he didn't return all day.

'I'm sorry.' Gaara sand was in the air swiftly and silently. 'I have things I need to do sometimes.'

"You didn't have to knock me out! And cut that out, use your copy-thing to speak for you," Draco shouted indignantly, looking more than a little exasperated at Gaara's lack of remorse at the assault, both physical and on his dignity.

'Sorry. I won't do it again.' He ignored the command to use a clone to speak. If he made a habit of doing it he might have to become a conversationalist. And Gaara really did feel bad, about knocking Draco out and now hiding things from him, knowing full well he'd have to hide his escape next month as well in a similar manner.

Gaara still considered his newest secret to be well guarded, but what he had failed to take into consideration was the fastidious attention to detail Draco prided himself on, even if he did sometimes miss the obvious things, like a pair of Polyjuice-impersonated henchmen sneaking into his common room to question him on his heritage last year. What Draco _had_ noticed, was something Gaara hadn't even taken into account the night before. Draco had noticed last night that Gaara hadn't taken his gourd with him, wherever he had gone to. The same gourd that Gaara refused to leave anywhere out of his reach, that when he had deposited it last time, he had fell off a hippogriff and almost died. Draco didn't yet know the significance of this observation, but one day he would come to fully understand. And that day was fast approaching.

As the evening wore on, Draco began to forgo his petty grievance and sulking and fill Gaara in on the day's events whilst he did his homework, and helpfully and dutifully relayed the day's homework assignments to a plenty thankful Gaara. Eventually, when they were both done for the night, Gaara having done markedly more work than Draco, they settled down for a full night's sleep.

Gaara was always thankful for this luxury, and it could never be overstated.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next morning, as early as a 'growed up' ninja was supposed to wake up, Gaara rose fully reenergised and ready to take on another day of tribulations courtesy of both the teachers and student body around him. Of course, Draco still hadn't accustomed himself to waking up at the same reasonable hour as Gaara, but being the kind and perfectly gentle roommate that Gaara was, he took absolutely no pleasure in ripping the sheets off of Draco's bed and rolling him onto the floor. It was the same method he used to wake up Kankuro all the time, though he had only used it on Temari once because she had overslept and they had a mission to go on. He only did it the once, and that's all that needs to be said about that.

This incident, with Draco sprawled out on the cold floor, growling, however, ended in a much more amicable manner, whereby the injured party crawled to the door and then stumbled out to the showers whilst mumbling dark words under his breath. The words 'killing' and 'cruciatus' were muttered a few times, Gaara lazily noted as he got ready for the day also. When Draco slumped back into the room, giving Gaara a glare he knew Draco had been working on. Gaara then went to take his own shower, glad that he hadn't smelled at all animalistic from his previous night's episode. It was a wonder he had been able to do so little the day before, but then, that just left him with all the more energy to continue with today's probable trials.

After showering, dressing and gladly slinging his gourd to his back, Gaara and Draco made their way to get breakfast, Gaara walking unnoticeably faster than normal to get there. They both sat with the Slytherin moderates, as was mandated by the divided fear and loathing of the rest of their house; though, that wasn't to say that a large majority of the Slytherins who _were_ willing to sit near the pair weren't saddened by Gaara's reappearance. Nonetheless, all of those around Gaara politely and, in one or two meek cases, sincerely greeted their bone-chilling housemate back into good health. Even a few of the blood purists who weren't overly suspicious of Gaara's heritage greeted him, which made the red-head happy, even if they were false smiles. That they were willing to try and pretend to be nice to him was still nicer than being ignored or abjectly hated.

Despite the massive _changes_ of the day before last, classes that day were all too familiar, potions being the worst example of these reoccurrences.

It seemed that Snape was going to even greater lengths than before to belittle and outright attack Gaara at every opportunity. It honestly surprised the silent receiver that the professor had the vocabulary and tenacity to keep up such a malevolent barrage for almost the entire two hour class, it was almost a feat of endurance. The broad range of insults also didn't disappoint, reaching even to Gaara's late illness and apparent laziness for shirking off work more than 'that layabout Potter', who was coincidentally sitting ten feet behind Snape with a serene expression of calm on his face as he listened to someone else receive the torment he had had to for years. Granted, Harry had never been so overtly preyed upon by the potions master, not often at least, but he was certainly not going to get involved and inadvertently switch Snape back onto insulting him just yet.

What Gaara and the rest of the class didn't know was that their teacher's fury had been caused by three factors. The first being his obvious, eternal and unexplained disdain for Gaara, the second being that despite his adamant protests to the contrary, his application to have Gaara removed from his class had been rejected by the headmaster despite his honest safety concerns, and thirdly was that he had been kept up for the past week, brewing the Wolfsbane potion for the detestable Remus Lupin by order of the same headmaster. These three combined had lead to the mother of all headaches that he refused to have cured by that overbearing Pomfrey when his own cure was sure to kick-in in only a few minutes. Only after an hour and a half of verbally bashing his student, intermittently broken up by bouts of teaching his craft, did his migraine begin to wane.

When his head was finally clear again, he began to survey all of the students' cauldrons rather than just watching and waiting for Gaara to make a mistake, which was far too often in any case, further proving his case against Gaara being allowed to practice, if not learn, potions. Sadly, even though his headache was just clearing, and even though he had predicted this would happen, even Snape was surprised when Gaara's concoction set several desks, numerous books, large portions of the ceiling and a small tuft of Neville Longbottom's hair alight. The fire was promptly quashed by Gaara's sand in all but Neville's case, where Hermione Granger had hit him around the side of the head with one of her tomes without considering the obvious concussion that would amount.

The official accident report that was prompted by Neville Longbottom's and several others' admittance in the infirmary for burns, concussions and various other traumas, concluded that Gaara would be suspended from practicing and, for the sake of his and the professor's health, reading potions until a safety review had been undertaken.

After the incident, when the infirm had been taken to the infirmary, Severus Snape wasn't angry about what happened.

Voldemort was angry that he was defeated by an infant. Sirius Black was angry at Peter Pettigrew for killing their friends and framing him. Goblins were angry at the inflated tax rates imposed by the Ministry's Financing Regulatory Committee.

Snape was more than angry.

The students fled their seats as they heard actual and serious curses being hurled at Gaara, and by extension Draco, as they too ran. Only after the two delinquents had vacated the room could the rest of the class return to their seats and try not to make a noise as they finished their potions. Snape took one hundred points from his own house, a first, and went into a closet to curse in a different way for the next thirty minutes. Needless to say, by the end of that period a few of the more innocent of the class were crying when they heard the muffled yells of what Snape was saying.

As Draco and Gaara jogged away from the potions cellar, hoping they weren't being pursued and thankful for the ultimate shield that had undoubtedly saved their cherished good health, Draco wondered if Gaara had messed up his potion so spectacularly on purpose for revenge against the snide professor's words. With nothing else to do for the morning until their next class and the looming threat of attack if they ventured too close to their Potions classroom to go to their common room, the pair decided to go for a stroll through the school. Well, for the aristocrat of the pair, it was a stroll, for the seasoned (and herbed) killer, it was, as usual, a scouting mission.

While they were walking, Draco told a few stories about his first two years at Hogwarts for which Gaara had been absent. Draco's stories were fairly plain for the most part, though a few sensational ones did pop up when they were about combating Potter in some petty manner or another. It seemed to Gaara like most of the antagonism between the two rivals was caused by boredom rather than blood purity. That one story about him tattling on Harry and his friends when they went to see a baby dragon (Gaara had stopped questioning some things), made him smile a little when Draco admitted he had acted poorly... for someone of his standing. At one point, the pureblood even admitted he had been a bit of a bigot when he had called Granger a 'mudblood' just because she insulted his honour.

Were Gaara a less refined Jinchūriki, he might have used his sand to mould a simple question mark above his head regarding the term Draco and several other Slytherins had used, but being the educated person that he was, Gaara had his sand form the full 'Pardon?' to which Draco explained the term. He had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he told Gaara about how offensive some people found it, to be called a mudblood.

It was the surest sign of progress so far. It made Gaara smile.

Gaara stopped smiling. Gaara sighed.

Up ahead was an underclassman being bullied...again. This familiar sight immediately spurred Gaara's tactical mind into action as he planned to look for an easy way to get out of his classrooms without always running into these situations that he just _had_ to help with. Both of the third-years walked onwards into the scene, where a group of second-year Ravenclaw girls were levitating a pair of their peer's shoes in the air, out her reach. Without a word, as a team, Gaara used his sand to retrieve the floating shoes and Draco maliciously threatened to set Gaara on the bullies if they didn't run along quickly. Gaara didn't like being used as a weapon, nor did he like doing all of the work, but he figured he and Draco were good enough friends for that sort of thing. Besides, friends of Draco's calibre get woken up even earlier in the morning to start the day, according to Rock Lee. Who was Gaara to argue with the tried and tested methods of social interaction of such an obviously well balanced individual?

After the other girls had run off in terror, the remaining girl, the subject of the bullying, looked to her knights in shining armour and thanked them. "Thank you very much. They usually just leave them some place high up so I have to climb to get them. I was never much good at the levitation spell myself, you see; I don't know why..." She seemed to drift out of her own introduction for a moment, her eyes wandering to the ceiling before she turned back to the pair she had been addressing with the startled look of someone who had forgot there was someone else in the room; "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way."

Draco ignored the girl's airy thanks, not interested in being told what he was doing was right by a stranger. Stranger still, when he considered the girl's appearance, complete with radish earrings and vacant stare. Draco didn't know much about female fashion trends, not nearly as much as his attentive mother might have liked, but he knew that a girl was not meant to wear radishes on her ears. That was not marriage, or friend, material. Uninterested as he was, Draco nodded his acceptance and went to lean against the wall whilst his friend finished up with their irksome spontaneous good deed.

It occurred to Draco that he would have to check his and Gaara's behaviour in future lest they continue to act like goody-two-shoes and become The Golden Duo. He wasn't about to turn into another Potter.

Gaara approached the younger girl who was, to his hidden shame, the same height as him, and presented her stolen shoes to her. "Thank you very much, mister Gaara." She took the shoes gently, and smiled brightly at the secretly peeved diminutive teenager and then thought again, "I never thought you were a monster, not like everyone says. You're just like the thestrals, I think. You're surrounded by death, but you aren't letting it in anymore. Good for you." Her light voice drifted off despite the shocked look on Gaara's face. "It really was very nice of you to help like that."

"Gaara used to be a 'shinobi' where he came from. I think that's what they do, help people and stuff; like an auror." Draco piped in, dismissing the girl's praise, bored of standing off to the side.

"I'd love to talk to you some more, Gaara, only, I have to go to my lesson now. They don't much like it when I'm late." That Gaara had remained silent throughout the encounter seemed lost on the lunatic who now seemed to be focussing on his head. "You know, you have very nice hair and a very nice scar. I hope you've found it." Luna twirled around and began to walk off, zigzagging along her way, not bothering to put her shoes on just yet.

Draco wondered what she meant about Gaara finding 'it', and Gaara wondered how the headmaster let so many mentally unstable people into one school.

The pair walked off soon after Luna's departure, Draco enumerating his experiences of being the Slytherin house Seeker in Quidditch, a position some coveted highly, a position that Gaara didn't care about. Now, if only he had a way of telling Draco this, as they made their way in the general direction of their next lesson, transfiguration.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It had been a long while since Gaara's muscles had ached from exertion. Not since he had arrived in this world had he worked himself hard enough to make his back and his legs throb with a satisfyingly burning pain. A small solace to him, other than the obvious satisfaction of a day's training making him stronger, was the pain Draco was certain to be in. It had, after all, been the unfit Slytherin's suggestion that they do something else, rather than practicing spellwork that early Saturday morn; though, Draco had probably been thinking of something more like sleeping in until nine or ten and then spending the day playing their altered Quidditch variant, maybe even invite some others to join in. Instead, Gaara had informed his friend that they would be 'training' that day. Draco had had no idea what to expect from that one word, but he would know forever more that it meant _pain_.

The work-out was no Gai routine, Gaara still having not managed to pull off the handstand-around-the-village shtick, but the shinobi-worthy exercises were more than draining for the layabout that was Draco. Suffice to say, Draco wasn't going to be learning taijutsu or long distance running any time this millennium. Still, to the sloth's credit, he did try to keep up with Gaara as he was led on a ten mile jog. It would have been a sprint, but Gaara was fairly sure Draco wouldn't make it half a mile before collapsing at that rate. He lasted a full two miles at a jogging pace.

So, after half a day training and the other half being cursed by his roommate, Gaara was more than happy to slip into the luxurious baths he had not known existed until now. Gaara did know full well that the baths were for prefects only, being situated in the prefects' bathroom in fact, but threatening a handful of older teenage civilians into quickly exiting the baths was a small cost. This was one of the many things he missed about home, baths. Having had to make do with showers, or without at times, the feeling of the heavenly hot water around him was relaxing bliss. Or, it was, until he heard someone else enter the bathing area. Gaara wasn't all too worried about his peace being disrupted for long, knowing that there was only one person in the entire castle who wouldn't run from him in fear. It was just Gaara's luck that that one person was now taking his bath after a long and hard day of working-out with his sadistic roommate. It turned out that Gaara wasn't the only one willing to threaten the prefects when need be.

"Oh," Draco, in just his bathing towel, looked rightfully shocked to see his roommate sitting in the hottest area of the bath after having disappeared earlier on without explanation. Draco hadn't been nearly as concerned this time because the red-head had taken his gourd with him, which was now propped up against a sink nearby.

Gaara closed his eyes, too relaxed to care and not wanting to encourage a conversation when he was trying to sink into a tranquil coma. Draco, over his initial surprise, entered the bath too, sitting down and staying as quiet as a murderer could hope for. All would be well for Gaara, were it not for the feeling of having intent eyes on him. Sighing a little, Gaara cracked open an eye and spotted that Draco was indeed staring at him with an inappropriate intensity for the time and place. With the look lingering longer than he considered necessary, Gaara opened his eyes fully and raised an (invisible) eyebrow, bemused, waiting for an adequate answer for Draco's examination of his torso and face.

A cursory glance at Gaara's questioning face was all it took for Draco to blush terribly and stutter an apology before explaining, "S-sorry, it's just... that mark on your stomach, and all those scars..." Gaara looked down, seeing the demon seal prominently set upon his belly and the myriad of scars that were usually covered up by his sand armour. It surprised the heavily worn boy that it had taken this long for his friend to see him like this, having lived in such close proximity for the past month. It was also unfortunate. The scars were easy to explain, a good few of them having appeared since his adventure in this world had begun, but the seal was another matter entirely. The only reason it was showing at all was because Gaara had been using his chakra to rest his arms on top of the water's surface. Luckily, Gaara had a kind of defence for times like these that could deflect any follow-up questions; he turned his head and pretended he hadn't heard. He was but a poor mute boy.

"What is it, the... mark?"

Gaara closed his eyes again and sunk down a little in the water.

"Gaara..." Draco, knowing he was being ignored whilst he tried to breach that topic, decided to drop it. The roommates soaked for a good long while, only coming out of their trances to fling a glare or a threat at one of those presumptuous prefects trying to access their own baths. The nerve of some people.

When Gaara had had enough, his skin beginning to prune in the most uncomfortable way, he stood and walked out of the baths without even a backward glance to Draco. The scarred teen slipped into the changing room, dumped his bathing towel and dried himself before redressing and suppressing the fox-like urge to prank Draco, seeing as his clothes were so helplessly laid out. Restraint was Gaara's middle name as of recent months, and the pat on the back from his best friend back in Konoha would only confound his shame if said friend were to learn of his acting on his mischievous impulses. Sparing the potential prank one more nervous glance, Gaara moved onwards towards his dorm room so that he could meditate for a little while without the distraction of his roommate's presence, and do some of his mountainous homework over the course of the night. He wasn't very tired anyway.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"And so Garb'l-e-Nark von Humpershpeil, son of the famous Goblin industrialist Orgag the Mechanical, not to be confused with Organic the Vegetarian, and the witch Herga the Disquieting, settled the second-ever peace treaty of its kind between the Goblins and the Wizard's Coalition in 1535 caused by the First Great Carpet Dispute. Garb'l-e-Nark is also notable for his contributions to the field of Goblin-Centaur economics relating to inheritance tax allowances. This fascinating life of economic development was facilitated by the Minister for Magic at the time, who is now believed to have been von Humpershpeil in disguise, who allowed Garb'l-e-Nark unlimited access to the Centaurs as well as signing into law the economic mandates required for such a risky fiscal move. However, in 1530, at the start of the First Great Carpet Dispute, the then Minister for Magic, Kran-e-L'Brag was ousted from office when many questioned his building a large statue of his long-time colleague von Humpershpeil. This statue was later melted down to make bed frames."

The bored senseless red-head had seldom wanted to exorcise a spirit as much as Professor Binns, even Shukaku was... Well, Cuthbert Binns was still the second worst teacher Gaara was forced to endure. At least the other students were able to fall asleep to avoid the horror of two hours listening to the doddering old spook reciting the most dry and useless history ever recorded, Gaara, meanwhile, was an insomniac who had trouble enough sleeping at night. He was doomed. Occasionally Gaara would fire off a small bullet of sand at the dead teacher's head, only for it to fly on through untouched and explode softly against the far wall before sloping back to Gaara for the next shot. Even with this excitement, unnoticed by all of the other snoozing students, didn't help Gaara. He meditated for hours on end and yet this lesson seemed to last forever more.

There was only one other student who was awake and, by the looks of her notebook, this was by choice. Every time Hermione saw another projectile pass through the oblivious Binns' head, she turned to glare at Gaara, to his disinterest. She had tried a few times to wake either Harry or Ron, so that they too could witness the suspect doing something nefarious, but both of them only woke to check the clock and, at seeing the lesson as still far from over, resumed ignoring their dear friend.

Draco _had tried_ to stay awake, and lasted longer than most, but that only amounted to paying attention for fifteen minutes into the lecture before dropping his head. He hadn't even been writing the lecture notes he was supposed to. Everyone knew you got your notes either from a nerd like Granger (Draco had been saddened to find, after their first History of Magic lesson of the year, that his studious friend Gaara hadn't taken any notes at all) or you worked from one of the countless History text books from the library. What Draco had written, before the soft lullaby of the elderly-looking ghost at the front of the room got to him, was a list of the strange things he'd noticed about Gaara. He'd shielded his book with his arm and went to sleep on top of it to prevent Gaara from rumbling him, and he'd only noted the really strange things about Gaara otherwise the only apt description of his strange attributes would be simply 'Gaara', nevertheless, it confused Draco when he looked over these notes later on. There just seemed to be something missing.

'_Gaara (first name or last?). Full name Sabaku no Gaara (apparently):_

_1. He can't talk (unless he clones himself)_

_2. Foreign (from where?)_

_3. Red-hair (too dark)_

_4. The scars_

_5. That mark on his chest (another tattoo?)_

_6. Tattoo on his forehead_

_7. He doesn't sleep every night_

_8. His disappearing (during a full moon!)_

_9. His sand power and the container thing_

_10. Whatever a 'shinobi' is_

_11. His personality._

_12. He doesn't know about the Wizarding world_

_13. He didn't know about Quidditch! _

_14. He didn't know basic magic (still doesn't...)_

_15. Magic doesn't work properly_

_16. Is he a pureblood? Or even a wizard?'_

Draco would have been very concerned with Gaara's disappearing during a full moon, a fact he'd noticed the next day, had he not remembered that the first night back at Hogwarts had been a full moon, albeit cloudy, and he would have noticed if Gaara had turned into a murderous monster. And werewolves weren't affected that drastically by the weather on the night of their transformation. Everyone knows that. Except Potter and Weasley...

Still, whatever was missing was something big, the platinum blond was sure of that much. He just wished he could just outright ask Gaara what it was, but nothing was ever that simple with his fellow outcast. Half the time he would follow Draco absentmindedly and nod whenever an opinion was asked of him, like any good friend would, and other times he would be distant and standoffish, as if Draco's very existence annoyed him. The noble Malfoy heir normally would dismiss anyone who acted like this, he liked to know where he stood with people, but Gaara was different to Draco because he was everything Draco wasn't. All the others around Draco, even his old so-called friends, had been cowardly blood purists who had no power on their own. It sickened Draco now, and he wanted to change, even if he was forced to associate with moderate Slytherins like Tracey Davis and Roy Norbel while he shunned his old (not friends) acquaintances like Blaise Zabini, who now went out of his way to usurp Draco's old place at the head of the pack, and Crabbe & Goyle, who were more afraid of him than ever before...for some reason. Even Pansy had forsaken him, and she'd been so pretty. Now she only scoffed at him if he came within ten feet of her.

The heir dreaded what his father would say, or worse, what his father would do. He dreaded it so much that he hadn't opened any mail in nearly two weeks. Arguably, that had been the bigger mistake, as now his mother would be worrying and, from the rapidly growing pile of letters on his bedroom desk, getting progressively angrier. If Lucius was his biggest fear, his mother was a close second. Second only because she never hit him, though if ever she were to, this might well be it. What was worse was that Draco knew there was at least one howler from his mother waiting in the pile, and because his mother was prone to using plainly coloured envelopes for hers, he wouldn't know which was hers until he opened it. Mrs Malfoy had also disabled the exploding charm function of the letter so that Draco could open it when he was good and ready rather than in the company of all of his friends and classmates. It just wouldn't do to show such overt emotions in front of his peers, after all. Still, despite that no immediate threat was being posed by his waiting to open his howler and read the rest of his post, Draco still held out hope that he would be struck by a stray blasting hex or tonne of sand so that he could enjoy a blissful coma for a week or two instead of the impending threat of a visit from his father (and possibly his mother as well).

Frankly, Draco wasn't sure which scared him more about such a visit, his father and mother's anger at him, or their reaction to his new (best (only)) friend.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Where to start...

Mistake number 1: Letting Gaara practice the wand movements with his actual wand.

Mistake number 2: Offering to practice against Gaara, seeing as he had improved so much and would be less likely to accidentally mess up the spell.

Mistake number 3: Not ducking.

Lupin, a man with a history of more regrets than hot meals, looked back at the last half hour he had spent on the floor of his classroom clutching his stomach because the tickling hex Gaara had sent at him had hit him so hard he had almost lost his breakfast, and he sighed. The attacker had, in either shame or disinterest, gone to the back of the room to sit on his own whilst the rest of the students continued with their own practices. The closeted werewolf would have liked to have thought that Gaara was so ashamed at his having hurt Lupin that he had to take a moment to sit on his own and worry senselessly about whether his precious teacher was alright. He would have liked to believe that. What he had seen, through a pain-filled haze, was Gaara hit him with the curse, wait until he groaned in pain, and at seeing his professor was not dead, gone to the back of the room where he then pulled out a large book and began to read. He hadn't glanced up since a stray spell impacted his sand shield, not even to check on his dear friend's fragile health; and that was how he liked to think of Gaara, a friend, a student and an attempted murderer.

When he regained his senses, the walking wounded stumbled back to his desk and fished a small letter out of his drawer, which he had hidden in a magical compartment he himself had created specially. The letter in question was unassuming and held only a single sheet of parchment, and yet would certainly be enough, if discovered by the wrong individual with the right information, to land him with a very lengthy stay in Azkaban prison. Luckily, there were only a handful of people alive that had the right information that could incriminate him with the letter, so he held no reluctance in pulling it out in the middle of his class of third-year students, in which Harry Potter was now standing (over the giggling form of his friend Ron who was trying to undo the tickling hex that had been cast upon him). Lupin took his quill and scribbled a little note at the bottom of the letter he had been sent, before slipping it back into the envelope and sliding that into a small book called Harmless Hexes and their Makers.

"I think you might find this book particularly interesting, Gaara," Lupin handed the thin book to the questioning boy. "A friend of mine recommended it to me." Gaara nodded and slipped the book into his old leather satchel to read later. Part of the off-worlder really hoped it wasn't just the beginner's spell book and a not-so-subtle hint to practice more on his own from the wounded practice dummy who was now limping back to sit at his desk and nurse his poor stomach.

Draco, who hadn't missed the exchange, ducked under the hex that was sent his way and sent one right back. Several weeks ago, had one of his acquaintances been given such a book from a professor like Lupin, he would have been livid at the insinuation of incompetence and immediately sent a letter to his father to have such a professor sacked. Now, however, he could neither send a letter to his father nor could he blame Lupin when he himself had been on the receiving end of far too many of Gaara's ridiculous spells. Frankly, he was half tempted to recommend Gaara be barred from such practices himself, but he couldn't insult his friend like that. Unless they were partnered together again, then it was a matter of survival.

The lesson ended and the students exited the classroom, all keeping an even greater distance between them and Gaara than before to avoid his immense spell-casting abilities. Despite all of the rumours of Gaara's inability to perform even the simplest of spells properly, when the class saw a third year incapacitate their teacher effortlessly with a tickling hex, they couldn't help but be awed by that power. Well, the Slytherins were awed, the Gryffindors were mostly angry by the attack on the kind man. Harry was more than bemused. He was really starting to like Lupin, which was natural seeing as both previous Defence teachers had been either incompetent and possessed by his arch-nemesis, or incompetent and really annoying. Then there was Lupin's apparent friendship with his father, which he had been meaning to talk to the man about sometime soon. All in all, Gaara seemed worse than even Draco now.

And that was another odd thing that all three of the Trio had noticed and/or mentioned, that Draco Malfoy, reputed git, was now slightly less gittish. Not to the extent that he wasn't a foul-mouthed, snobbish, weak little blood-puritan, but he hadn't cornered Harry to attack him, verbally or magically, in weeks. It was refreshing. That, along with Snape's attentions being drawn elsewhere, was adding up to a pretty good year for him. Now, if only there wasn't an infamous mass-murderer on the loose looking to kill him in the name of the even worse Dark Lord who was still out there somewhere, and the swarm of Dementors who had a tendency to attack students, if the episode on the train was any indication.

Harry didn't get a chance to confront Gaara for his having attacked Lupin unprovoked, with his two trusty friends backing him up, as both Gaara and his shadow, Draco, had disappeared in the rush of exiting students. Harry couldn't even take the opportunity to talk to Lupin about his parents because he had apparently limped away to the Madam Pomfrey while no one was looking. All in all, Harry considered this a battle lost.

Meanwhile, Gaara and Draco were walking back to their common room, Defence having been the last lesson of the day, and both were in quiet contemplation. After they passed a pair of snickering fifth years, who darted up the stairs past them, Draco said offhandedly, "Gaara, have you ever thought about pretending to be a squib?"

He was promptly ignored.

When they arrived at the Slytherin common room, as the secret door swung outwards to allow them entrance, an intense wave of heated air hit them dead on, almost knocking Draco off his feet. They walked into the usually cool room to find it hotter than a sauna and devoid of people bar one or two of the liberals lounging around in just a shirt and shorts drinking iced drinks.

Draco stomped up to one of the first years who seemed to be the only other fully dressed Slytherin there, and highly uncomfortable for it, "What's going on here?"

"I-I don't know. It just got really hot, like, in the last few minutes. Jack's gone to get professor Snape."

Draco didn't know who Jack was, and he didn't care, he wouldn't be kicked out of his own dormitory over something like this. Besides, there was a chance that Gaara would take his electing to leave the dorm as a signal he wanted extra time 'training'. The pureblood didn't care if the house was set on fire, he wouldn't be subjected to that torture lightly. Speaking of his sadistic friend, Gaara seem to be perfectly happy stood in the heat, whilst Draco was sweating a disgusting bucket-load. It would make sense, Draco thought, if Gaara came from a desert like one of the ones in Egypt. He had all of that sand and didn't know anything about British wizarding culture.

Gaara walked to their room and Draco followed, wanting to ask about Gaara's home again. Maybe if he guessed right Gaara would tell him. It couldn't hurt to try.

Gaara was loving the heat, so like his own home, if a little more humid. He sauntered back to his room and thanked whatever accident or fault in the heating system that had delivered such lovely weather. He was a desert dweller and the weather in this world right now was closer to that of Snow. He was glad to find his room was just as hot as the rest of Slytherin but then Draco moved to the window to let the cold back in. Thinking fast, Gaara called out his sand and created a spherical shield of sand like he so often did, except, this one was formed around Draco, trapping him inside along with the heat. The Jinchūriki needed some privacy to check through the book Lupin had given him, so he figured Draco could suffer the heat for a few minutes.

Draco was in an oven of sand. He was going to kill Gaara.

The Bijū container flipped through the tome and was glad to find a letter inside the pages, and not just painfully simple spell theory. The letter was addressed to him, but had 'Moony' written above it, scribbled out, presumably this letter was just being forwarded to him. Gaara knew three people in this world well enough to receive a letter from: one was forwarding it to him, one was trapped in a boiling hot torture chamber, so that just left his favourite escaped convict (in this world). Pulling out the parchment, he read the messy scrawl:

'_Moony,_

_Gaara,_

_I'm so happy to hear Prongs Jr. is doing well. He's making his godfather so proud. He's following in Prongs' hoofsteps for sure. I knew you'd do a great job. Also, my condolences about Lily's terrible spells. I'm sure he'll get better with practice, but at least he's fighting in his own way for the greater good. I hope he keeps fighting for the light, converting little Death Eaters. Getting a Malfoy to pull his head out of his arse long enough to smell the daisies is an achievement worth commending._

_You or Lily should visit soon because I'm really bored sitting here on my own. The Dementors didn't drive me insane, no matter what you or any trained medi-witch may say, but this boredom might just do it. Besides, it's been so long since I entertained company, and I would relish the challenge of cooking a full roast dinner again._

_Moony, if you don't act on Wormtail soon, I will. I can't wait much longer._

_Yours, _

_Padfoot'_

At the bottom of the page, in Lupin's handwriting, it read:

'_Lily,_

_I would be more than happy to give you some one-to-one help outside of class, to improve your spellcasting, you seem to have had trouble with them. When you are done reading this, burn the note and dispose of the ashes. If you would like the extra lessons, tell me you need help in your next lesson. _

_Moony'_

Gaara wished he knew a violent Katon justu, because simply casting this note into a regular fire would not suffice to quell Gaara's anger at being called Lily again and again. It was bad enough that his ineptitude in magic had been raised so many times, Gaara was tempted to accept Lupin's request just to shoot spells at the man. What stopped him was the knowledge that what the note said was true, the spellcasting part. He would still need to get retribution for the nickname, and he excelled at retribution like few others.

The matter of Pettigrew, on the other hand, was problematic. Gaara had yet to see the man-turned-rat and that was the problem. He would have no problem acquiring the rat once he was within sight, his sand being handy like that, but the thing had apparently been hiding out somewhere. The proud shinobi would be damned if were to allow himself to sink as low as to spend his days searching for a hidden pet. He'd heard Konoha shinobi joking about having had to catch a cat as Gennin (honestly, who would assign trained ninja to track a pet down...), so he'd be the butt of everyone else's jokes if he actively searched for the rat. And it was Sirius' problem to deal with, being framed and all. He'd help if he could, but he wouldn't make it his life mission to fulfil someone else's revenge. There was that... and he'd tried in the Gryffindor common room one day, having snuck out of his lesson for a little while, and couldn't find the little rodent. It hadn't been on the Weasley boy and it hadn't been in their room so he was stuck for ideas on where it could be hiding. But other than that, it was in ideological opposition to him to search for Pettigrew.

Gaara went back to the common room and cast the letter into the fire along with some old homework he'd mixed in. The foreigner still didn't quite understand the limitations of magic, but he thought such a precaution should stop anyone from reconstituting the letter from the ashes, and he'd scribbled all over the sheet before hand and ripped it up as well. After he was done watching the paper disintegrate he shifted the ashes around to mix them up and turned around. Snape was standing in the centre of the room looking almost as angry as the other day, but this time he seemed to be focussing on the caretaker. Apparently someone had jinxed the heating for the dormitory and it couldn't be undone for another twenty-four hours. They couldn't even use magic to cool the room down because the castle prevented such spells to prevent pranks...

Moving swiftly around the room, avoiding Snape at all costs, the borderline delinquent was about to vacate the room when he remembered what he had done to Draco a few minutes before. As Snape began to turn towards the entrance he was now occupying, Gaara considered leaving Draco there for an hour or so, in the baking heat with possibly limited oxygen, seething with anger. With slumped shoulders at his own reluctance to let people die, even for noble causes like avoiding Snape, Gaara descended back down the marble steps to return to his room and free Draco and possibly revive him or hide his body.

"Move out of my way, freak!" Gaara wasn't in his way, clearly standing to the side of the staircase to avoid trouble, but irrelevant facts like that were hardly important when Snape was angry. "Don't you have someone's life to make miserable? Or are you finally going to put some effort into learning so you don't remain an incompetent waste of magical power worse than Potter? You disgust me."

Thinking his options through, all too briefly hindsight offered, Gaara drew his leg back and kicked Snape's own from under him causing the potions master to fall flat on his face. The attacker continued on his way promptly, wishing to avoid whatever scathing remark or painful spell Snape would wish to cast his way. As he turned a corner, something that might have been a blasting curse hit the wall leaving a sizable dent. Gaara decided he was probably lucky to be banned from Potions for the foreseeable future as he would be in definite danger if he attended.

Back at his room, he recalled his sand back into his calabash gourd and considered whether an apology written down was worth the same as one spoken directly to the injured party. Draco, down to his underwear, sweating and chest heaving laboriously, laid out on his back looking dazed, could only summon the energy to turn his head and flash a contemptuous look before turning back to the ceiling and trying to regain his breath. The merciless weapon stepped over Draco and opened a window, walked back to the door and turned to the half-dead Malfoy and gave a short bow before exiting the cooling room.

So, he would now have to avoid Snape AND Draco, as well as keeping a reasonable distance between himself and the rest of the student body.

He meant well, but sometimes the best intentions will leave your best friend on the floor trying to stay conscious after being partway roasted.

During dinner, Gaara snuck down into their room, having waited for this brief absence, and left a note to Draco expressing his apologies and his intention to spend the night elsewhere (so that he wasn't smothered in his sleep (not that Shukaku would allow that)). He ended up spending the night in a classroom, sleeping on a soft bed of sand with his protective shield set around him. It frightened the caretaker, doing his nightly rounds, in no small measure to find the ridiculously pale boy sleeping in a classroom with floating clouds of sand hovering around him. The rat that tried to sneak in during the night, sometime after that, trying to avoid Mrs Norris, was even more scared and considered going back his 'owner' to avoid whatever Dumbledore had let into the school this time.

Deciding to brave the assuredly cold relations he would need to endure at breakfast, Gaara decided to take his figurative punishment and endure Draco's ire, the next day. Frankly, Gaara thought sleeping on his sand all night, or the few hours he was actually able to sleep, was punishment enough. He could have stayed up, but he had no books to read and it was too cold outside to practice. Draco, unsurprisingly, was more than irritated; he shot more than a few spells under the table at the Jinchūriki, though Gaara was unaware of this at the time because his sand acted automatically out of sight and out of mind. By the time lessons rolled around, Draco was happy to sit at the other side of the room to avoid Gaara who he considered to be little more than an enemy at this point. Gaara had knocked him out, kept secrets from him, sent dangerous spells his way, almost strangled him, alienated him from his peers and family, and now he'd almost killed him again. And he _still_ hadn't opened his parents' letters. If he didn't soon then he probably go back into Gaara's sand chamber willingly.

In all but one lesson, Gaara was saddened by Draco's sudden distance but couldn't blame his friend. He hadn't really mastered the whole _socialising_ thing yet and, to him, encasing a boy in a cocoon of sand wasn't all that bad, really. He'd have to work on that if Draco ever forgave him. Or if he ever got home and made friends there. On the other hand, the one lesson he wasn't so sad to be alone in was DADA, and that was because he had to swallow his pride and ask Lupin for his help, which certainly didn't need witnesses. What also required no witnesses was when Gaara snatched Lupin's wand from the man's pocket with the intention of withholding it until their lesson in two day's time, after curfew. It was petty revenge, but it was the best he could come up with on the spot.

Now, Lupin wouldn't usually ask a student to break the rules, but Gaara didn't really fall into any categories, much less the rule-abiding kind. However, his expectation of Gaara's rule breaking didn't reach to wand stealing so he was more than a little worried when he couldn't find it where he was certain he'd left it. He spent the remainder of the day hoping desperately that no situation would arise that needed his wand. It was humiliating for a wizard his age to lose his wand, what's more, a teacher of his subject losing his wand. He'd have to make sure Sirius never found out. On the second day, Lupin began to try and whittle down the list of potential suspects of who could have stolen his precious wand, as, by that point, he came to the conclusion that theft was the only way he could have lost it. There was Snape at the top of the list, then the Weasley twins, then the collective of Slytherins who hated him for not being a pureblood and not discriminating against the muggleborns. Really, now that he thought about it, the only people he knew hadn't taken it were McGonagall, Dumbledore, Harry and Gaara; the people he trusted. Further thought brought the werewolf to the possibility that Sirius might have been involved, but that was derailed as Sirius hadn't been anywhere near him when he lost it, but there was always a small part of Lupin that would immediately look in Padfoot's direction when something went awry. It was a survival instinct.

Whilst the man worried about his reliable wand, Gaara made his way out into the woods carrying a large slab of unidentified meat he'd stolen from the kitchens. He hadn't ever seen a house elf before and he hoped he never had to see one again. Apparently the odd little slaves were human enough to instinctively fear his presence, going so far as to hide when he came near, and animal enough to venture towards him intermittently before running away again. With over fifty elves running to and from him with looks of fear and curiosity in their oversized eyes, the ordeal wasn't pleasant. Then the look of terror when he told them he was taking one of the big slabs of meat from fridge. They all screamed and tried to escape, some even teleporting away. He might have licked his lips when he looked at the meat, but that was just because he hadn't eaten very much for breakfast, trying to avoid Draco's furious eyes and all.

The weather outside was cold but dry, remedied by a few extra layers, and Gaara was supposed to be in the library doing self-study to bring his potions abilities up to the standard where it would be safe enough to let him back into the classroom, where the rest of his year group currently were. The walking disaster area didn't think he would be safe in the vicinity of Severus Snape for some time, potions abilities or none. His free time and boredom with rereading the same Potions textbooks was what led him to making this impromptu trek back into the Dark Forest again. And though this was certainly the most leisurely stroll he'd taken into the woods thus far, it wasn't without minor problems, as a skulk of foxes had taken a fervent interest in the meat he was carrying. The ravenous pests were persistent enough to force him into using _shunshin_ to escape. Usually he would have fed a hungry family of animals, but ever since the Suna-Konoha war, he'd bore a small grudge against foxes, giant or normal.

With the use of the teleportation technique, he arrived at his destination, heralded by the happy barks of three dog-heads that had apparently smelt him coming. He didn't know why they were excited to see him, after having met him once; but then, they might have just smelt the giant piece of meat he was carrying with him. Gaara had thought about getting some dog biscuits for them instead, but they seemed woefully inadequate to give to a dog (dogs?) that size.

While Gaara was off feeding and playing with a stray dog, Draco was sat in Potions trying to avoid Snape's wrath as the grumpy bat limped around the room almost snarling at his students one by one. Harry was unhappy to note that Snape was centring his disdain on him again, which wasn't a particularly happy return.

Now, Draco was still more annoyed than Professor McGonagall when offered catnip by drunk seventh years, but he was also now terribly lonely seeing as his old friends had still deserted him and now Gaara was (rightfully) avoiding him. He was sat on his own at the back of the Potions room, wallowing in self-pity for his lonely state for over an hour. He glanced across the dim room to his housemates, the ones he didn't now hate for their betrayal and/or bigotry, and came to a decision that he wanted them back, his friends and status as unofficial head of the house (in his eyes only). Even if it would be so much harder to achieve now that he couldn't bring himself to hate the muggleborns (for their blood purity at least) and because of his irrevocable link to Gaara despite their current disagreement on how to treat living creatures, especially living creatures they are currently rooming with; he would regain what he'd lost.

That situation with Gaara would need to be dealt with at some point, too, and recently he'd been hankering for some mischief. Once upon a time, when he was feeling the need to cause trouble, he'd probably insult Potter or his friends to get a rise out of them or cause trouble for a teacher by complaining to his father, now, however, he wanted something a little less antagonistic and little more juvenile. He'd have to keep check on this desire lest he turn into another Weasley twin. The heat had been dreadful even after he got out of the Sand-ball of Death and everyone knew that a prank against the noble house of Slytherin was undoubtedly the work of those two ginger menaces.

Draco's retribution against the other, single, red-head who'd wronged him would have to wait a little while as he wanted to go flying with his team and had just conjured up a plan on how to achieve that and make the Weasleys pay for their insult. It would also make Potter angry, which was always a bonus.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"The key's not working."

"What?"

"Yeah, what do you mean 'the key's not working'?"

"I'm saying it's not working. It won't fit in the lock."

"Rubbish, pass it here, I'll try it."

"Be my guest."

"...the key's not working."

"I told you so."

"Well why's it not working, then?"

Harry watched as Fred or George tried to open the broom closet where all of the Gryffindor Quidditch supplies were held, including their brooms, only for their key to once again fail. It didn't make sense, it was definitely the same key and no one could change the locks without unlocking it, and these locks were meant to be spell-proof for all intents and purposes. It was so not fair. Harry had been waiting patiently to go out and practice, enduring all of the week's indignities and now his one safe haven was being taken from him. If they didn't get this sorted soon enough, Slytherin would be sure to slither in and take the practice slot and Gryffindor would have to wait until next week for another, maybe even later. They could only hope that Slytherin didn't find out about this.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Flint."

"What is it, Draco?" The upperclassman asked testily, even using the boy's first name as a mark of disrespect after recent events.

"Get the team together."

"Where do you get off telling me what to do?" The buck-tooth boy sat up straighter on the Great Hall bench as his arm twitched eagerly towards his wand.

"The Gryffindorks won't be making it to their practice on time today so we'll steal the slot and get some much needed practice. I'd have thought you of all people would want to take this last chance to best Wood in the House Cup."

"How do you know they won't make it to practice?" A raised eyebrow was all the sign of hope that Flint would share with Draco, but his fingers were no longer itching to grasp his wand to teach his House Seeker a lesson, so the boy took it as a good sign.

"I've ensured it in the proper, Slytherin, way, of course. It's all ours if we act soon."

A large yellow-toothed smile spread across his face, "I knew there was still hope for you, Malfoy. Go get Higgs and Pucey from the common room."

Without another word, Draco moved on, knowing he was being shown some (very) rare kindness from the captain as Adrian and Terence were the only two players on the team that wouldn't hex him if he tried to talk to them outside of practice these days. Though Terence wouldn't be too happy to see him either, considering he stole his spot as Seeker last year and he'd never quite forgiven Draco for it. It didn't escape Draco's notice that Flint had been even kinder by allowing him the chance to regain some favour in this way. It wasn't beyond the captain to sabotage his attempt at redemption, at the cost of extra practice time, if it meant causing someone suffering. Marcus Flint had never even really cared for winning in Quidditch, he was more about the sadistic joy of watching Gryffindor's falling to the ground.

Luckily, both of the fairest players on the team, other than himself, were quick to follow once he explained what was going on. Draco was pointedly fair when playing (most of the time) because he didn't have to cheat to win, except when he was facing Potter, but his pride still wouldn't let him cheat against the Gryffindors, despite the scathing looks he had received from his teammates the few times they had lost to Gryffindor. By the time Draco, Pucey and Higgs got onto the field, the rest of the team had arrived and were laughing among themselves at their having stolen a practice spot. The elation hit a peak when they spotted the Gryffindors arrive without their brooms and then leave swiftly again when they saw who had profited from their trouble.

As the team mounted their brooms, all in high spirits, Draco did a swift circuit of the field and threw the new key to the Gryffindor broom closet out into the fields surrounding the stadium. He figured it would take at least another hour until they bothered checking with Filch, who would tell them a small blonde 'Gryffindor brat' had asked for the locks to be changed because they'd lost the keys. Now that he'd gotten rid of the evidence, Draco laughed at the image of Filch refusing to change the locks a second time in one day and threatening them with barbaric punishments for wasting his time.

Flint announced that he wanted all of the positions practicing together, including substitutes, for the hour. This was the captain's not-so-subtle hint that he would be shifting the starting line-up if the regulars disappointed him. It was also Flint's way of telling Draco in particular that his ticket onto the team, the Nimbus 2001s, was now expired and he'd have to earn his keep to remain. And from the big smile of Higgs' face, Draco wasn't the only one to pick up on this. The balls were released and everyone began.

Out in the stands, Gaara watched the Golden Snitch race around under everyone's noses. It often amazed the shinobi, how many of his ninja-honed skills were useful in wizarding situations. For instance, along with the instincts developed to track fast moving shiny objects (typically pointy weapons), Gaara was also well versed in keeping secrets, which now helped him to avoid drawing his housemates' attention. If his house found out that he could see the Snitch at any given time, they'd undoubtedly pester him into joining the team. And he just couldn't do that. Playing games was beneath him, and he would essentially be taking Draco's spot, but above all he would never jump onto one of those flimsy pieces of wood and fly hundreds of feet into the air. Not for a game. Not in this lifetime.

Meanwhile, both Draco and Terrence were still in their starting positions, trying to catch a glimpse of gold. Draco scanned everywhere he could, occasionally glancing back to his opponent to see if he had spotted anything. Then, suddenly, Terrence flew downwards in a burst of speed that left Draco stunned momentarily before following him. Now that they were both following the same path, Draco saw the Snitch flying out near the base of one of the stands and tried to catch up to his counterpart who was still a ways in front of him. Pushing forward to his top speed, Draco still wasn't head to head with Higgs. The Snitch didn't sit idle either, flying up to the top of the stands and darting out into the centre of the pitch, among the other players, all the while being chased by both Malfoy and Higgs.

While Higgs was definitely the superior spotter, Draco was the better flyer of the two, and by the time the pair were in the middle of the pitch, Draco had pulled out in front and was not losing his lead any time soon. Then came the Bludgers; Derrick and Bole had been beating them back and forth until now, but as Malfoy came into sight, an opportunity to get rid of a budding blood traitor also appeared. The two then set their sights on knocking their younger seeker off of his broom. So, Draco had to stay ahead of Terrence, chase the Snitch and avoid the barrage of bludgers that he noticed were only being hit towards him. But still he didn't falter, even when he felt a Bludger brush the top of his arm, perilously close to breaking his arm like a certain inferior Gryffindor seeker.

The Snitch began to fly towards the goal posts that Flint was milling around, watching his team practice and cheat. Flint didn't see the Snitch, so when he saw who he had believed to be his weaker Seeker, flying towards him at top speed, with Higgs following quite a distance behind, he was a little shocked, to put it mildly. He'd been glancing towards his Seekers all practice and Draco was flying better than he had ever before. Whether that was because he was maturing into a teenager, or because he had been practicing during the summer (or all of the above plus regular workouts with a sadistic, fitness obsessed roommate), Flint didn't know but either way he was doing much better than Higgs, who was lagging so severely he would rather lose both Seekers and recruit an entirely new one than bring back his old seeker. It seemed that Terrence had been spending the last year wallowing, or doing his schoolwork, and hadn't been practicing at all.

All who saw it were amazed when they witnessed Draco Malfoy, the boy who had had his father pay his way onto the team, presumably following the Snitch, slip off his broom going at top speed and follow the black Nimbus 2001 through the Quidditch Hoop and then pull himself back on to his broom before spiralling around the base of the hoop. Many jaws were slack as Draco landed on the ground and held up the Snitch along with a supremely smug look.

Well, he wasn't going to be cut from the team any time soon and Gaara would never, ever know that his hellish training over the last few weeks had helped him. Never!

Gaara watched and smiled as several other team members landed around Draco and stiffly complimented him. He would have to continue those little exercise routines with Draco. Who knows, maybe one day he could pass for physically fit, rather than the lazy aristocrat he was before.

Back on the field, most of the players hopped back on their brooms and resumed practice after they had given their obligatory congratulations. However, Adrian Pucey stayed on the ground to discuss Draco's performance with enthusiasm seldom seen inside Slytherin house. Even Miles Bletchley stayed around to talk to Draco, who was ecstatic to have people to talk to again, and even better was that they talked back. The rest of the practice was as exhilarating as the first half, and the satisfaction that came from mocking the Gryffindor team about the loss of their much needed practice time was brilliant as ever. Even better, still, when they tried to pin the blame for the loss of their practice slot on Draco only for Flint and the rest of the team to back him up.

And then things escalated when passing Gryffindors and Slytherins started to argue about which side were the liars. Soon enough McGonagall and Snape were breaking up what could have soon turned into Hogwarts' first full-blown riot in years. All of the participants had house points deducted, though some noted Gryffindor seemed to have come out of it worse off than Slytherin.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

One thing could be said for the bigoted and hateful majority within Slytherin, they were certainly interesting to talk to. Whether they were discussing politics or how they planned to beat up dirty-blooded underclassmen, they were engaging from beginning to the end. The moderates, those that didn't share these same ideals or the same pure blood, were definitely not up to Draco's standards in social interactions, for the most part. Sure, one could count Theodore Nott as a moderate of sorts, seeing as he held everyone in equal contempt, and thus was not opposed to, when unobserved, conversing with Slytherin's second biggest pariah of recent months about how detestable certain people were and how incompetents should be flayed alive, but those moments were rare as even Nott wasn't willing to earn the same status by associating with a potential blood traitor, and none of the other interesting people would even talk to him. So, Draco had to talk to people like Tracey Davis and Roy Norbel, and when he was in the mood to converse about Quidditch he could seek out Bletchley; but he was still discontent.

However, as Tracey told him about her muggle mother's cooking, he found himself wondering why he'd once thought muggle borns and half-bloods should be purged from Wizarding society. Now, Draco still wasn't one-hundred percent sold on muggle-borns being taught in the same schools as full-blooded witches and wizards who had been inducted into the world of magic since their births, but he was a long way away from his old views. Draco would have liked to have had a mother who liked to cook for him, but he knew his own mother would never do house-elf work.

And now that his mind had drifted onto his mother, the ever-present problem of the pile of assuredly angry letters he'd received also jumped to his mind, haveing received another in the morning post. He needed to open them, and then it struck him, how he could lessen the blow. He would prank Gaara for revenge, thus equalising the status quo between them and allowing them to be friends again, before reading them. Good news before the bad.

"Hey, Draco, what's Gaara actually like?" Roy said out of the blue, "I mean, no one actually knows anything about him and since you two are, like, you know, friends, I figured you could tell us some stuff about him. Maybe if people knew who he was, they wouldn't be so afraid of him."

Draco doubted it, but who knew. Plus he didn't know anything either, not really, so there was no real danger of disclosing any of Gaara's well-kept secrets. "Gaara can't talk and he's inept at magic. He's strong, in a muggle way, and he likes to read."

There was a collective pause as his small group of listeners were either letting that titbit sink-in or were waiting for Draco to continue with something juicier that wasn't already public knowledge. When it became apparent that the moderately prejudiced aristocrat was finished sharing, a collective sense of disappointment washed over them and Davies was first to air hers, "Um, Malfoy, isn't there anything else you could tell us? We just... want to get to know him better."

"Well, he's very quiet, you know; there's really not much to tell. Gaara can be dense from time to time, and accidentally hurts people sometimes. I mean, he almost cooked me alive the other day, but-"

"Wait, what!?"

"Oh, no, it _was_ an accident. I still haven't talked to him, though that selfish prick hasn't even apologised." And now he was forced to socialise with these dreadfully boring individuals over breakfast; though, that didn't mean he wouldn't be polite and tactful about it.

"Really? He sounds even scarier in person."

"Yeah, is it true he-" Norbel's surprisingly keen eyes had apparently spotted the Devil of which they had been speaking appearing at the entrance to the Great Hall. Roy's stare was followed swiftly by everybody else at the table, minus Draco; all of whom not-so-subtly gawked at the boy they'd just been gossiping about. Draco steadfastly ignored his soon-to-be-friend-again-pending-childish-revenge while the others tried to tone down their gazes to acceptably inconspicuous levels.

A clearly uncomfortable Ichibi Jinchūriki sat down on his own, away from the indiscreet gapers and Draco, and began to eat heartily, having stayed out all night again and not having slept a wink. Gaara had spent the cold dark hours in the school's library continuing his research and rereading 'Speechless Spellcasting and You: A Beginner's Theoretical Guide' in preparation for his fast approaching supplementary lesson.

Munching on dry toast, Gaara noticed that Draco, while still avoiding and flashing him venomous glares from time to time, also occasionally let slip a terrifyingly familiar gleam of mischief that he'd long since learned to avoid whenever he was within a hundred miles of Konoha for fear of orange hair dye or buckets of glue and feathers. It wasn't just his dignity Gaara wished to protect, as important as it was, but also the well-intentioned prankster's health, Gaara having concussed the 'Number One Hyperactive, Knucklehead Ninja' on more than one occasion in evading one of his ill-conceived practical jokes. That this humorous _monstrous_ evil had followed him to an entirely new world and a new blond was testament to Gaara's justifiably paranoid behaviour. Whatever Draco was planning, the probable target would be keeping his pitch-rimmed eyes firmly open.

Meanwhile, the assuredly insidious plot was already beginning to take form in Draco's vindictively focussed mind, and, if all went according to plan, it would be the most poetic of justices. But first the heir to the noble Malfoy family needed to contact his exotic Wizard's-furniture dealer.

Later that day, an uneventful dinner, following a largely uneventful school day, finished with Gaara in a serious rush to increase the distance between himself and Draco and his rapidly expanding malicious aura. Once or twice the mute had actually caught his roommate chuckling quietly to himself as he glanced over to the presumed target.

He had another hour or two before Lupin finished his work for the night and could move onto teaching Gaara, so the **second** smallest Jinchūriki ('Kami bless Yagura') decided to do some light dementor hunting in the woods as his after-dinner exercise. He'd gotten nothing but grief from the visiting prison guards and they were a liability, not only to their target, his good friend who was now hiding perilously close, but also to all of the relatively innocent children in the school. Plus he _really_ wanted to kill something, anything, after another full day of sitting down, being told absurd facts about a world he wouldn't be staying in and being treated like an academy student.

As the red-head tore yet another of the cloaked monstrosities apart, he pondered not just on whether if he would run out of dementors at some point but also about if he should be dedicating more of his time to researching his way home or on researching his raccoon-dogthropy. He had considered going back to the library instead of killing wraiths but after weeks of sitting, learning and reading, even the admitted bookworm needed a break. And he certainly wasn't going near Slytherin after what he saw that lunchtime, when he had gone down to find Draco attaching a mysterious letter to an owl's leg; and a cursory glance at Draco's desk had shown he'd not touched his parent's letters. Who did Draco have to send a letter to?

Suppressing a deep shiver from the damning possibilities or the declining temperature, the sand enthusiastic finished his eleventh dementor of the evening and headed back to the castle. He was probably about on time. He would usually examine the setting sun's position to gauge the time but with the thick cloud layer here he would be hard pressed to distinguish between night and day. But then, at least it wasn't raining... He hated the weather in this 'England' place with a passion, and apparently this was the popular consensus among the population. The people in Suna, for their many faults, had come to terms with their climate and some, namely Sabaku no Gaara, had thrived in it.

The DADA classroom was totally empty and that irked Gaara somewhat. He was sure he was at least close to on time, and by any standard it was at least polite for one to wait a while, especially since this late appointment was currently holding his sickly teacher's wand and trying to work out if a wizard's twig could be replaced easily or if it would be crippling to snap Remus'. Before his hardened fingers could flex the wand into kindling, Lupin appeared through the back door with his customary tired smile and polite greeting.

"I'm afraid," he began from atop the stairs at the back of the room, "I won't be able to help you _practically_ tonight. You see, I've had a little trouble finding my wand the last few days and I haven't had a chance to got to Diagon Alley to get a replacement, so I'll have to stick to the theory for now. I shan't try using your wand. Certainly not. The wand that chose you almost killed me the other day, I'd hate to think, the damage it could do in anyone else's hands." Lupin stopped as he heard a wooden creaking coming from somewhere close by, as he neared the small third-year carrying the massive gourd. "But don't worry, soon enough you'll be the one giving tips to your classmates, I'm sure. I'll do everything I can to help you."

With a mildly baffled face, not all that used to such open-faced kindness, especially from adults, a pensive Gaara reached into his pocket and pulled out Lupin's wand and held it out to him. The questioning look instantly disappeared from Moony's features as he recognised the ornate carvings of his very own lost wand.

"Lily! You found it! Oh, you brilliant boy! Wherever did you find it?"

Gaara had considered coming clean, answering 'In your pocket' somewhat snidely, but being called by some woman's name really pissed him off so he just shirked off his book bag and took out his own stick, ready to begin.

"Oh, yes, let's get started." The excitement of his returned wand bled into Remus' voice despite the probability of impending pain he was about to experience in the line of his duty as a friend and a teacher.

And thus began Gaara and Lupin's first extra spell-working lesson. Lupin began by explaining some of the basic theory behind wordless casting as well as a few tricks he'd picked up over the years to make it a little easier, and then, once that pool of knowledge had gone dry, he swiftly moved onto a few practice duels that caused more than scratches and dents to the stone-walled room. By the time the undercover werewolf called it quits for the night both teacher and pupil were winded by their practices. And, to both males' surprise, Remus hadn't been terribly injured, as he'd feared he might, but it did highlight to the war veteran just how powerful Gaara's mysterious control over the sand was, that all but his strongest spells and curses had simply bounced off of the protective shield. Towards the end, Lupin had tried asking, again, about the boy's sand, about his home, about anything, but as always he was ignored. It spoke volumes about Gaara on its own, that he was able to make being mute work so tirelessly for him and his secrets.

"Well, it's going to take a while, but soon I'm sure, you'll have caught up and you'll stop blowing things up," Remus said, handing Gaara's bag back to him, "I mean, last week your Stunning spells were almost as powerful as the Killing Curse and now you can cast them safely. A small but great step." The proud smile on Lupin's face was a little strange for Gaara and so he bowed his thanks for the help and made to depart. "Good night Gaara and well done, really well done. We'll do this again in three days, okay?" Gaara nodded back to his caring teacher as he walked out of the door.

Gaara had had a fun time, honestly. Other than the obvious betterment that was always on his agenda, it had been sort of nice to be in the company of Remus, who was the first person to actually _talk_ to him in a quite some time. With how Draco had been acting lately, Gaara had been on his own, and he had figured the (more) normal teen would be making the first move to reconciliation but now Gaara wondered if he should make some kind of concerted effort in the matter. Though, how one went about such an endeavour was totally beyond him. He'd usually rely on Kankuro and Temari for this sort of situational advice. None of it had ever made any sense to him.

Gaara, now too wrapped up in his thoughts regarding his failing social relationships and his distant home to sleep in an unused, dusty classroom, wound up wandering the outside of the castle, roaming along the outside of the walls and up the various towers. With the waning moon still illuminating the countryside adequately, along with the myriad of stars that had apparently come out since he'd gone inside that evening, Gaara was able to appreciate both the magnificent night time view atop one of Hogwarts' highest towers as well as the startling number of dementors that were still swarming around in the distant grounds and forest.

What the preoccupied insomniac had failed to consider was that when the unsuspecting students of Ravenclaw House heard a distinct tapping coming from their ceiling, as if something was walking on their roof, and they, a small group of seventh-years who'd been in the top rooms, poked their heads out the windows to investigate, the scare the sight of him walking along their walls, parallel to the ground, was enough to make all of the witnesses to such a vampiric feat faint. And so the second great house of Hogwarts was pranked by the infamous Weasley twins, having apparently slipped some kind of unknown nightmare-inducing potion into the less-than-brave Ravenclaw seventh-years' dinners the night before. Once again all charges were categorically denied and the suspects tried to work out who could be out to frame or, worse, outdo them. Even they had to admit that using the scary, Slytherin, exchange student for material in a nightmare was genius.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Over the next few weeks in October, Gaara continued his lessons at night with Professor Lupin and no one was any the wiser as to why Gaara hadn't landed nearly as many people in the Hospital Wing as had previously been typical for the Walking Curse (an epithet he'd been gifted with before). Now, Gaara wasn't improving at any sort of prodigious rate, which was why most of his teachers still hesitated before allowing him to practice in their classes, but he'd still improved much faster than anyone could have imagined. Though, those imaginations would have based their pessimistic projections on the fact that the exchange student wasn't getting regular after hours tuition from Hogwarts' first capable Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in a decade, but the fact remained that he barely wrecked one classroom since the beginning of the month.

It was truly the highlight of Lupin's entire week when he had been on his way to submit his student progress reports to McGonagall after she'd made a big to-do about comparing subjects, and he'd (coincidentally) walked past Filius Flitwick's Charms classroom and had seen Gaara performing a spell – perfectly. Gaara had conjured the Bluebell Flames, a simple but precise fire spell, without destroying surrounding furniture, without causing a violent explosion, without causing any injury to surrounding parties whatsoever; it had been a perfectly normal charm. And then Flitwick, already a courageous man for allowing Gaara to try fire magic in his class, praised the ever-stoic Gaara for his 'diligent work' and 'phenomenal improvement'. It was the first time, that Remus had heard of or could imagine, that Gaara had been praised in Hogwarts. He literally whistled on his way to Minerva's office, before he was harshly told to cease that incessant noise by the ever-terrifying Professor McGonagall who took the reports and sent him on his way.

There were only two in the entire castle, other than the werewolf and were-tanuki directly involved, that knew of Gaara's secret extra lessons. The first was Mrs. Norris, who'd been idly making her rounds, looking for students for her dear Argus to punish, when the cat had peered into the Defence classroom. That was one of the first animals Gaara had encountered in this world that apparently despised him. It was a strange feeling, to be hated by an animal; he had been feared and, recently, loved by them but never loathed. Lupin told him it was perfectly normal with that particular _cat_. In any case, seeing as a teacher, even a ragged, smelly, dog-breathed teacher, was present to dish out some cruel punishment to the trespassing student (seeing how they were firing spells at one another), the surly feline moved on to the next room.

The only other individual that had stumbled onto the private tutorials was Severus Snape. Snape had been roaming the halls, hoping, praying, for an out-of-bed pair of students so that he could work off some of the stress he'd been accumulating lately (funnily, ever since a red-topped punching bag had stopped coming to lessons). He'd recently perfected a potion that could make all the food the victim consumed taste like soap for a month. Albus had always politely requested that he not poison the students or punish them too harshly but what the Supreme Mugwump didn't see wouldn't hurt him. The pale man had been stalking along the third floor when he had heard some muffled talking, coming from somewhere near the abhorrent werewolf's classroom so he approached quietly, wishing to startle the hapless children before lightly poisoning them. And then he'd seen, who else but, the shallow monstrosity of a reminder, Gaara, being told by Remus not to forget about their next lesson as Gaara had walked away. And then it'd all made sense, Gaara's purported spontaneous improvements in all of his other classes (well, he wasn't about to let the detestable child back into his class after some minor improvements in his wand waving, not without a fight) and Lupin's inexplicable recent fatigue long before the next full moon: he'd been tutoring _it_ at night.

Snape was aware that Malfoy and the sand monster hadn't seen eye to eye since sometime near the beginning of the month and that Gaara had been sleeping elsewhere at night, an arrangement he'd been perfectly content with as he was sure Gaara was a bad influence on Draco if the pureblood's recent secretive dealing with an Asian merchant and his trips out into the grounds were any indication. And then there was the population of Slytherin recently violently shunning Malfoy which he was sure was Gaara's fault somehow. And if the protection of one of his most promising students wasn't enough, it was also terribly satisfying to imagine Gaara lying cold in a ditch while Snape was trying to get to sleep; much better than counting sheep. Now, however, the bat had mixed feelings about his most despised pupil's latest night-time activity: on one hand he hated Gaara much like he hated Potter and any special treatment in the red-head's favour was despicable in his opinion, but on the other hand Gaara was an embarrassment to his beloved Slytherin as well as to Wizarding kind and any move towards being able to competently practice the divine art of magic was to the benefit of everyone. Eventually, the large scornful part of Severus that wanted to casually and venomously spread that the muted failure hadn't improved by his own merit at all but had required regular special attention just to reach the level of subpar and that had considered docking points from Gaara's House, his House, as well as assigning punishment for breaking curfew (regularly, apparently); this well-fed, resentful part of Snape lost out to the neglected division of his psyche reserved for professionalism and pity along with his preferred pragmatism backing it up. The greasy-haired man gave one last disdainful look to the back of the retreating Gaara's head before turning the way he came and swiftly walking back down to his laboratory. He had just come up with an idea to make his potion even crueller and he wasn't about to let such a creative idea go to waste, and there were always more students to punish. Soon they would rue the day they ran into Severus Snape... well, they would certainly rue it a great deal more than they already did.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Good evening, Headmaster." Lupin drawled in turn, already instinctively bored by this last-minute meeting called by Albus and led by McGonagall, who was carrying with her a large unidentified stack of papers that reminded him too much of his classes under her tutelage nearly two decades ago when he'd have to watch as Sirius was given his tests back like watching a hippogriff being excecuted. Many of the sounds had been the same as well. Now, however, he looked around the room and saw he wasn't the only one among the staff who'd been hoping for an early night and had instead been called for a meeting in Dumbledore's office that promised to be less entertaining than counting the hundreds of cracks in his bedroom ceiling before fitfully falling asleep.

"Thank you for coming," McGonagall, for all of her strict briskness and humourlessness, from the looks of her, could have just as easily been one of the many teachers at the meeting only there under duress, rather than the one who had supposedly called the meeting in the first place. "I will try and keep this brief," A lie, Lupin could tell. "But as you're all aware, I have been asking some of you to share academic reports from your classes' first month of school. Those reports were most illuminating and I have been able to ascertain just how the students have been progressing." Another lie, Lupin thought, but this one was harder to spot. "Both myself and Albus would like to congratulate you all. You have maintained Hogwarts' exacting standards even with the situation outside of the school the way it is."

Remus, as disinterested as he'd began, managed to tune out even further during the course of Minerva's in-depth analysis of the reports she'd been given, to the point that he actually had to be nudged to return to reality later in the meeting, and listen-in as Albus apparently continued to speak.

"Yes, the Minister has decided to send the head of his Administrative Inspectors to Hogwarts to observe the school during this latest crisis. It's nothing to be alarmed about, I assure you, and he shouldn't cause any disruption to your normal activities. I'm sure you're all as tired as I am so off to bed with you before Argus catches up with you. Oh, and could Remus and Severus stay for a moment. I'd just like a quick word."

After the room had cleared, Lupin turned to the headmaster, a man who had taken great pains over the years to help him with any of his troubles, and quickly began "I am very sorry, I-"

"Not to worry, Remus, I'm sure you were just distracted, in deep contemplation over you sterling achievements in your first month's teaching." Dumbledore always found the most convenient times to showcase his innate omniscience. Other than himself, the headmaster and Snape, all that was left in the room were McGonagall and a preening Faux. Both the deputy-headmistress and Potions professor looked suitably peeved that Lupin had effectively been sleeping with his eyes open during a staff meeting but both held their tongues. Albus turned to address all three of the room's occupants, "I just wanted to have a word with the three of you-"

"Spare us, headmaster. Even Lupin here is probably aware, on some _unconscious_ level, that you didn't really call every member of staff to talk about the students' academic progress. You called everyone here tonight to warn them about the visit tomorrow, and you've asked us in particular to stay to discuss the truth behind it regarding a certain loathsome 'exchange student'. Am I correct?"

"Visit?" Lupin intoned, not understanding the significance.

"Well, I can't understand why Lupin is here is the first place. Surely, the boy's head of house should be sufficient in dealing with this." Minerva didn't look any angrier than usual, with her accusation, but to his surprise it was Snape to the rescue.

"I can answer that. Lupin here has been giving some extra lessons to Gaara after school to reduce the risk of serious injury to students and bring his spell casting up to the level of a house-elf. I thought it best to avoid broadcasting it to save any embarrassment." No one bought that Severus was talking about Gaara's embarrassment.

Minerva, stuck between disapproving of the ex-Marauder for sneaking around behind her back at night and pride for helping a struggling Slytherin student, looked back at the only folder left of the pile on Albus' gigantic desk, "Well, that would explain the vast improvement over the last few weeks. You should have told either myself or professor Dumbledore about this, but under the circumstances it is understandable that wished to be discreet. I had no idea you had taken any particular interest in one of the students, other than Harry Potter, of course."

"Well, it's a challenge, but teaching Lily is-"

"What?" Severus challenged quickly, turning sharply to Lupin with intent eyes.

"Yes, Remus, could you repeat that last part?" Dumbledore said curiously, popping another Sherbet Lemon into his mouth when no one else moved to take one when proffered.

"Umm, yes, well... It was a silly nickname that... _I_ thought of and it's sort of stuck since. You know, because of Gaara's eyes and the hair." Remus, while wholeheartedly endorsing the stupid epithet, really wished he could lay the blame for it on the escaped con he was currently aiding and abetting who had first said it. Especially, when he turned to see the silent, smouldering rage on Snape's face and the resigned disapproving look McGonagall had given him many times during his school days as if to reprimand him alone for associating and collaborating with James and the others. Dumbledore let out a short, bellowing laugh and congratulated him on an excellent nickname.

"You know, I've had over fifty nicknames in my life, but I've never actually been called Nick. Nor have I been called Lily; I'll have to remember that one. A friendly appellation helps to establish strong bonds of friendship. It is inspiring to see one of our professors bonding with their students so closely. To take a disadvantaged student under one's guiding wing is truly the summit of teaching."

"Err...thank you, headmaster." Lupin tried not to look as embarrassed for his slipup as he felt and swiftly tried to move back onto topic, wherever that had been. "Now, you were telling us about the Ministry spy they're sending."

"Oh, yes," Albus seemed to have forgotten the grim reality of the impending inspection. "Officially it is a gesture of goodwill, that the Ministry of Magic wants to check on the Black situation and the dementors' presence here as well as a general status report on the students' progress. Unofficially I made a grave mistake in openly requesting information about Gaara from the Ministry, believing him to be some sort of run-away, but when they found they had no information on anyone matching his description Minister Fudge became concerned and when I wouldn't hand Gaara over to the Aurors for interrogation he has since convinced himself that Gaara must at least be in league with Sirius Black, if not with the entire collective of Death Eater dissenters that seek to undermine him. Though why I would shelter such an individual is beyond me."

"Paranoid buffoon wouldn't know a Death Eater if he employed one..." Snape scoffed and took a chair in the corner. "So what is our plan? We obviously cannot allow..."

"Henrick Morbidus." Dumbledore said the name with the same curt and disapproving tone he had used to name Voldemort countless times in the past.

"You don't mean to say that Cornelius is sending that dreadful man here, do you?" Lupin had no clue as to who this Morbidus was but from the deep concern written all over McGonagall's face, it was clear as to the type of man he should expect.

"In any case, even _if_ Gaara isn't in league with dark forces, we cannot allow him to come into contact with Mr Morbidus. He might not be breaking the law, as far as I can prove, but there are enough questions surrounding the boy to warrant a full investigation by Morbidus' department. Wouldn't surprise me any if Fudge decided to send in a squad of Aurors to spirit Gaara away to a holding cell in the Ministry just on a hunch."

Lupin spoke up, "Now, Severus, you're exaggerating. There _are_ a few mysteries surrounding Gaara, no one's denying that, but this Henrick..."

"Henrick Morbidus is not only the 'head of Administrative Inspectors', he is Fudge's right-hand man. If there is ever a dirty job that he doesn't even want Lucius or his cronies in on, he calls Morbidus in to do it. The Department of Administrative Inspectors is a front for the Minister's intelligence gatherers. How is it that you, who fought in the last Great Wizarding War, do not know this?" Snape, even with his customary glare, looked somewhat haunted by his knowledge on the Inspector.

"Calm down, please," Dumbledore had conjured tea for himself and Minerva, and was sat back at his desk looking to have far more control over the situation than Lupin thought probable, under the circumstances. "Now, as Severus said, we cannot allow Henrick to see Gaara, otherwise it will lead to further unanswerable questions."

"Then we should just send the boy away for a day or two, until this farce of an inspection is over. We could send him to Diagon Alley or maybe the Weasleys might be able to put him up for the night."

"Alas, I wish we could, Minerva. Undoubtedly, by now the Minister or rather the Administrative Inspectors will have put Hogwarts' floo network under surveillance and posted agents in Hogsmeade for the same purpose to stop us from moving Gaara. I'm afraid we will have to be more creative in our approach. We will simply ensure that wherever Mr Morbidus is on the grounds, Gaara is anywhere but. This is why I asked you here tonight, Remus, I need you to move Gaara secretly while Minerva guides the Inspector. When they move, Minerva will contact you and you will take Gaara somewhere else."

"In that case, couldn't we simply take Gaara somewhere secret in the school to hide until he leaves? I mean, how is Professor McGonagall supposed to signal us with Morbidus stood next to her?"

Dumbledore opened one of his desk drawers and retrieved a strange silver compass and a golden coin the size of a Galleon but without any of the details on it. "I had these made some time ago, perfect for hiding from someone, but I never got the opportunity to use them until now. Minerva will carry the coin and with this compass Lupin will know precisely which direction to travel in order to avoid her. And since Morbidus is coming with the express intention of seeing Gaara, if we are not forthcoming with him, we will need an excuse as to why he is not around, otherwise the Minister will indeed send more agents here to check up on us. So, as Remus and Gaara move through the school, many of the students will see Gaara and so when Morbidus asks, and he will ask, where our new exchange student is, the pupils will be able to point him in every direction he is not."

"It's convoluted enough to be one your plans, Albus. Are you sure Lupin will be able to follow your directions properly?"

"Don't worry about me Severus; I haven't lost my way in this school since my first year. However, if you want to give Lily- I mean Gaara his tour around the school, I'm sure I could keep myself busy. Who knows, he might appreciate the chance for a one on one with his head of house."

"Enough!" Honestly, Minerva could swear she was dealing with her second year Transfiguration class with the way they were going on at each other. If her memory served, which it always did, both Severus and Remus _had_ acted like this in their second year Transfiguration classes. She didn't stand for it then and she wouldn't stand for it now.

"You're quite right, my apologies, Minerva." Lupin had no intention of saying sorry to Snape and he was sure it wouldn't be received kindly in any case. "Headmaster, when is the Inspector coming?"

"Really, Remus! Albus told us all that before everyone left." Minerva often wondered if the rest of Remus' friends would have retained their childishness into their adult years like he seemed to have, if things hadn't gone the way they did. "Morbidus is coming in two days time. 'A last minute inspection', indeed!"

"Okay, I will take Gaara aside after breakfast on Friday and we will keep moving during the day. Is there anything else?"

"No, my boy, sorry to have kept you so long but I'm sure you see how vital this task is for both us and Gaara. Good night Remus, and good night Minerva." As everyone stood to leave, Dumbledore called out, "Severus, if I might speak to you alone for a moment."

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The castle's paintings were rather upset when their sleep was disturbed by the incessant and repetitive sneezing of a strange giant-gourd-carrying student who was stalking the halls at this ungodly hour. The red-head himself was quite perplexed as he'd never gotten a cold before and he had also never been the subject of another's conversation so often that his continuous sneezes had led him out of the library for fear of splattering the precious books with mucus. It was disgusting and inconvenient. Also, his recent sense of foreboding, that he'd solely attributed to Draco's plotting, had doubled since his sneezing began.

This, the coming last week of what had been a remarkably peaceful month of October, in which he'd transformed into a tanuki-human hybrid, befriended a giant three-headed dog, taken up magic lessons with a man calling him 'Lily' and wronged his friend and was now awaiting what was sure to be a terrible retribution, was sure to cause him all sorts of trouble, even by his warped standards. He just knew it. And then there was the waxing of the moon that was leading to his next transformation in about a week's time. Even the pessimist in Gaara couldn't envision the full moon's effects getting any worse.

But still, what did he ever do to deserve... oh, right, the indiscriminate murders...

* * *

Omake:

A few months ago, long before the utter craziness of England and the Wizarding World, it had been three months since the failed Suna-Konoha War and the Chunin Exams and Temari and Kankuro had set up a small party. It had been two who months since their Gaara had killed an innocent person and they thought it was worth celebrating this milestone with a party, only inviting the relevant people, which was pretty limited seeing as most of the village still saw him as a monster. When Baki arrived at the Sand Siblings flat, he brought a little alcohol with him and after that the small gathering really started to party.

It was only an hour after the party had actually began that Gaara returned home from his wandering musings on his pivotal battle; whereupon he found many more people than had been invited all dancing and drinking in his family's shared apartment. Among the revellers were Baki, singing something incomprehensible, Temari chatting up some uncomfortable looking guy, and Kankuro half-naked on top of the coffee table.

"I'll kill anyone who doesn't leave." The quiet words from the quiet boy seemed pierce right through the crowd despite the loud music and happy atmosphere and immediately everyone exited the apartment, minus the two inebriated sand siblings who quickly tried to calm the baby brother down before he went out and indulged in his old hobby.

The road to recovery is a long and slow one, especially for Gaara.

"I told you we should have invited him."

"Shut up, Kankuro!"

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading the longest chapter yet. Just a short Omake this time seeing as this chapter has probably taken more than a little of your time already. But, please do take the time to review as it means so much to me to read them. I'll try to get the next one up some time sooner than the last, otherwise I probably won't live long enough to finish this fic.

Last year, when I posted chapter 4, I asked after a fanfiction I unaccountably lost and couldn't find even after hours of searching. This fiction was one of the best I had read and I was thankfully reunited with it by you, my dear readers. So, as I am editing this long chapter, I have decided to post a brief review of that fic:

'The Ghost and the Darkness' by Kirsdarkenvar, a Naruto fiction that is already 114,000 words long in 17 chapters, follows a decidedly dark theme of an obsessive, paranoid Naruto being cruelly pulled out of his self-imposed imprisonment and starvation by his recently orphaned Academy classmate, Sasuke Uchiha, who needs a place to stay for the night. The twisted bond of friendship that forms is unique, as is the tragic plot and the beautifully disturbed progression of events, all complimented by the professional quality of the writing. I don't wish to oversell it but the Ghost and the Darkness is a fiction that, by the number of reviews, is under appreciated. So, if you have a spare few minutes, check it out and if you might well like it.

I want to promote fics that are truly great, to you, the readers. I, too, have trouble finding good things to read, especially on this site, and any help I can give I will. I wholeheartedly recommend any of the fictions on my favourites list.


	6. Chapter 6: A New Conflict

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter (rightfully owned by J.K Rowling) or Naruto (rightfully owned by Masashi Kishimoto) nor do I make any money out of this fiction.

A/N: I really tried to get this up quicker than the last one but... well... you know... Kinda makes me wish this was a better fic than it is; make it a bit more of an auspicious occasion when I _do_ get around to updating.

If anyone didn't see the last update, I explain where the fic cover came from in the author's note in the last chapter. The incredible and generous Darkling221 drew it.

* * *

(Last Time)

_This, the coming last week of what had been a remarkably peaceful month of October, in which he'd transformed into a tanuki-human hybrid, befriended a giant three-headed dog, taken up magic lessons with a man calling him 'Lily' and wronged his friend and was now awaiting what was sure to be a terrible retribution, was sure to cause him all sorts of trouble, even by his warped standards. He just knew it. And then there was the waxing of the moon that was leading to his next transformation in about a week's time. Even the pessimist in Gaara couldn't envision the full moon's effects getting any worse._

_But still, what did he ever do to deserve... oh, right, the indiscriminate murders..._

* * *

A sense of looming dread hung over Gaara all that Friday morning, since the sun had presumably risen behind the thick cloud layer. He was sat eating his breakfast sedately, watching disinterestedly as the inhabitants of Hogwarts who actually slept at night roused and stumbled into the Great Hall, for almost two hours before he was actually acknowledged and approached. Thankfully, this time it wasn't a first-year on a dare to walk up to him; a game that had become increasingly popular over the last few days, and a game which he couldn't decide whether he should ignore or discourage, seeing as it probably wouldn't do any harm to let some of the residents of the castle see that he didn't actually eat 'firsties' for breakfast.

No, the man who approached Gaara was certainly older than, and definitely not as spry as, a first-year. Lupin wasn't an early bird, despite his studious nature, which was probably one of the reasons he was able to bond so well with the otherwise drastically different and less academically enthused Sirius and James; but nonetheless he had gotten up earlier than he usually would have liked in order to catch Gaara at breakfast, as the red-headed insomniac was always the first person there in the mornings.

"Good morning...Gaara," By this point, Gaara was already suspicious. The prideful Jinchūriki had been prepared to launch a jet of sand at the sickly professor the moment he was called by that dreadful, humiliating name again, so when he was actually called by his real name, he tried to work out if he could escape through the Great Hall's see-through roof. He stood, wanting to try it, to escape whatever the man had planned for him. He may have been taking lessons off of Lupin, and shared several (though, by no means all) highly incriminating secrets with the man, considered him to be somewhere between a respected teacher and a friend, but when Remus Lupin called him 'Gaara' right off the bat without any glaring dissuasion, he knew the adult wanted something. However, before the red-head could leap away, Lupin's hand gripped Gaara's shoulder in what should have been a warm gesture, and would have appeared to have been just that from afar, but was in fact a precaution by the experienced man to stop Gaara from dashing, teleporting or floating away.

"How are you this morning? Did you... sleep... at all? If you have trouble falling asleep, Madame Pomfrey would only be too glad to help..." Gaara, like many other Slytherins, hated inane small talk, however Gaara lacked the requisite tact and patience to conceal it as well as seasoned veterans of mindless chattering like Draco, who one could talk to for an hour without realising he was completely disengaged. Due to the scornful looks and frown, Lupin decided to cut to the chase.

"The Headmaster knows about our extra-curricular lessons and he's asked me to spend the day with you, revising all of the material we've covered so far in the tutorials; the theory, anyway. We'll be moving around the castle a little bit as I'm having to work without a classroom for the day. I also have to drop in on a few of the other professors, as well, so it's the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air in our lungs. _Try_ to think of it as a unique chance to really get to grips with some of this magical theory you've had to catch up on, with your very own devoted, one-on-one tutor."

Remus didn't expect Gaara to believe that spiel, which was fortunate as Gaara's curiously-invisible eyebrow was already inching upwards in question. This was the story concocted by Dumbledore that was to be their cover and alibi. He was declaring it here, in front of all of the psychopathic transfer student's (unnecessarily far away) Slytherin peers, so that they could then pass on the word that Gaara had been spirited away by the DADA teacher for extra tuition.

Already whispers were beginning to spread as he gently guided the obstinate Gaara away from his cold, played-with breakfast and towards the exit. Remus had no intention of telling Gaara what was really happening that day until it was all over and maybe, if he could help it, not even then. The mysterious mute boy, who had fallen out of the sky only a few months ago, may have appeared and tried to act like an adult, and in many respects he probably was beyond his years, but Lupin couldn't bring himself to add to his young friend's already heavy burdens with these new problems. Worrying about the future was the adults' responsibility; children should only worry about the present, especially when they've already suffered through such obviously difficult times.

Gaara seemed to have taken his near-death experience in the summer in his stride, but the state Sirius had apparently found him in, and the scars that still remained, still left Remus with more than one sleepless night in recent memory and he knew Sirius had been the same.

"We're going to be stopping off at Professor Hagrid's home first, for a cup of tea and to pick up a letter he said he needed delivering to Professor Flitwick. I'm sure Hagrid will have some freshly baked cakes he'd be willing to share, as well." Trying to instil enthusiasm about Hagrid's infamous cakes to the already unimpressed and sour teenager next to him was difficult, but he tried with renewed vigour as he began to quiz Gaara on Redcaps and the spells to vanquish them.

It was testament to Gaara's diligence that, despite his lack in casting ability (or restraint), his test scores and theoretical proficiency was almost at the average level, which, considering he'd never even heard of wizardry as Lupin's culture knew it until August, was prodigious. Remus, McGonagall and Flitwick estimated that Gaara could well be near the intellectual level of Hermione Granger and the Ravenclaws, he just didn't have the experience or the two previous years of knowledge to work from.

Gaara just enjoyed reading, a sad rarity outside of Ravenclaw, it seemed.

Gaara had his sand form the answers to the easy questions absentmindedly as he walked out into the cold winter wind (he didn't believe that England had such a thing as summer or fall). He trusted Lupin enormously, even if he did want to escape any troublesome tasks or conversations that might be required by their interactions. He trusted the man enough to follow him around for the rest of the day when he wasn't even being told the real reason beyond the cover story that had been announced to the listeners around him in the Great Hall. It was a smart move and Lupin would have made a good shinobi. Kami knew they'd made sicklier men into warriors in his world, even if his own sensei had killed the best example of such men that came to mind, in Konoha.

Gaara had never been to Hagrid's 'house' before, he'd never had any reason to, and now he was there he had to question their use of the word 'house'. He looked at the shed at the bottom of the hill with the big, old black dog laid out, chained by the door to the hut, looking to the world no different than a dead hound Hagrid had collected to feed to one of his more intimidating pets.

The oversized boarhound's head shot up, the flappy skin following swiftly after, as Lupin and Gaara came within smelling distance. Immediately, it barked loudly and achingly rose to its feet before falling back down into sitting position, watching as the two visitors came within petting distance. Remus, of course, heartily ruffled the dog's head and had his hand covered in saliva for his troubles. When Gaara was to pass by to get to the big wooden door, he saw the dog move its head towards his hand. He really didn't want to touch the smelly dog, not least because he'd been covered in more than a lifetime's worth of dog saliva only a few weeks before. His _sand armour_ just wasn't thick enough to suffer that disgusting feeling again. The dog's head-butting became more insistent but before he was forced to play with another annoying dog, the door to the hut slammed open and the entire archway was filled side-to-side with Rubeus Hagrid's smiling form as he beckoned both teacher and pupil inside, out of the cold.

"Morning! It's nice to be seeing you again, Gaara, and you too Remus. Don't mind old Fang there, he's as harmless as they come. Right old bag of mush, he is. Not like my Fluffy. He makes Fang look like a puppy, though poor-old Fluffy really is only a puppy."

"I didn't know you had another dog," Lupin asked, intrigued, as he sat down at the table next to Gaara who seemed to be trying his hardest to touch as little of the 'natural' smelling abode as he could.

"Yeah, I got Fluffy a couple of years ago off a nice Greek bloke at the pub." He reminisced happily, putting a pot over the fire to boil, "Professor Dumbledore had him working up in the castle couple of years ago, he did. Perfect little guard dog, Fluffy was. But then they didn't need him no more so they sent him outside again. He's such a cute puppy, domesticated and as harmless as Fang if he knows you, and loves his music." Gaara was trying to remember where he had heard the name Fluffy before. It wasn't exactly a regular name, but then none of the names in this world seemed to be normal to him and since he'd lost the ability and requirement to say names at all, he'd become a little relaxed with remembering people's appellations. Still, he could have sworn he'd seen the name somewhere, and he didn't exactly hang around a lot of animals, just Hagrid's menagerie and... the gigantic three-headed hellhound that wagged its tail as soon as it smelled him coming from a mile. He'd seen Fluffy's name on its food bowl.

"Of course, I understand it would have been a bit difficult to keep him in the castle, with him being as big as he is, but he really wasn't as bad as all that. I told him to keep everyone away from the hatch in his room and he did, just like he was told, like a good boy, you know, until Quirrel and Harry and his friends snuck past. He wouldn't hurt no one, normally. I get so worried with him out there, all on his own. I visit him as often as I can, bring him his dinner and everything, but recently he's not been listening to me and he's not been eating his supper." Ah, so Gaara had been retraining and spoiling the meals of the groundskeeper's beloved three-headed dog. Somehow the beast's ownership didn't make it seem any more surreal to him than it already was.

"Well, I'm sure... _Fluffy_ is enjoying the freedom. He's not had any trouble from that nest of acromantulas, has he?" Lupin asked, sipping on his tea, well used to discussing Hagrid's unique brand of animal-care.

"No, I tell Aragog to keep his kids away from Fluffy and any of my animals. He knows better than to cause trouble. Besides, with Fluffy being that big, even Aragog or Mosag would probably have trouble taking him down."

"Mosag?"

"Oh, yeah, that's Aragog's wife. Lovely spider, she is. Even-tempered. Never once tried to eat me." Gaara supposed that was one of the highest compliments that Hagrid could bestow upon any of his animals.

"I heard about the original acromantula male in the Dark Forest, before I came here, one of the biggest in the world according to the Monster Book of Monsters. But I didn't know about the female. Where did she come from?"

Hagrid began to look distinctly nervous, suspiciously so, "Well, Aragog was beginning to get real restless and lonely out there on his own, going through his teenage years, I suppose, so I, well, I did something I'm not strictly supposed to. Don't go telling Professor Dumbledore. I don't reckon he'd be too pleased, but I had her sent over from Argentina, just to keep Aragog company, but then came the kids. They're not badly behaved, ask anyone, except Ron Weasley and Harry, but they do get up to a little mischief every now and then."

"Your secret's safe with me."

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Albus Dumbledore, aged somewhere in the triple digits, had seen all sorts of people over the years and had become a particularly good judge of character, after a fair few mistakes in his earlier life; but never before had he seen a man that could be summed up with a single characteristic in all of his life: gaunt.

Henrick Morbidus was an unforgiving individual, taller than Albus by a head, if not more, and was as insubstantial as a broom. His thin glasses sat on his bony nose as he looked directly down it at one of the greatest wizards of the century. Albus couldn't remember ever having met Mr Morbidus before, certainly not from Morbidus' school days, presumably having been schooled sometime during Albus' first years as Headmaster, when he was still trying to work through the paperwork Headmaster Dippet had left him. But Dumbeldore, as he looked up at the impeccably dressed government official, had known as soon as the Inspector had flooed into his office just how little the wan bureaucrat thought of 'civillians'.

"Good morning, mister Morbidus. Please have a seat. You're a little earlier than expected, I'm afraid I haven't made any tea yet." Of course, Albus had known the man would come earlier than scheduled, he'd been sat in his office since five that morning, waiting. It was the oldest trick in the politicians handbook.

"Not to worry, headmaster, this shan't be a social visit. I'm only here to look around and see if things are running smoothly." The tension in the man's low, gravelly voice made the measured pace in his well-mannered speech sound so calculating that it left Albus a little envious. "You needn't worry about my presence here today, I simply need to ascertain that the welfare of the students hasn't been adversely affected by the dementors stationed at Hogwarts and that everything elsewhere is operating as it should, under the circumstances."

"I'm always glad to hear that our Ministry has the children's best interests at heart." Dumbldore's smile was his shield against the obvious yet still veiled reference to Gaara. So, they didn't want to admit to their veritable witch-hunt just yet. Two could play at this game, and he had the greatest school of wizardry in the world on his side. "I'm afraid, with my day-to-day duties in running the school, I won't have time to show you around." He knew he was being quite rude in dismissing the powerful Henrick Morbidus, but he really did have a lot of work to do and he knew that any direct involvement he had in that day's plan would lead the increasingly paranoid Minister for Magic to suspect some sort of Hogwarts-based conspiracy or plot.

"That's quite alright, Headmaster, I still remember my way around from my school days, I should be able to escort myself where I need to go." It was painfully obvious to Albus that this was a trap, and that if he gave Henrick free reign then not only would the existing plan regarding Gaara fail but so would any chance of keeping the Ministry out of Hogwarts. A lot more went on in this school than the Ministry of Magic needed to know; mysterious transfers, possessed teachers, werewolves and Hagrid's pets, to name but a few.

"Worry not, I've asked our deputy headmistress to show you around. Professor McGonagall knows perhaps as much about this castle's running as I do, she should be able to answer all of your questions. Hmm, she should be here any minute; we weren't expecting you until later so she'll just be finishing her breakfast." In fact, Minerva had been stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase, waiting for his signal, for the last half hour. Upon the signal, the staircase ascending up to the headmaster's office, Minerva walked up the stairs and wished she had had a chance to actually get some breakfast, if only to settle her stomach, but she couldn't be seen in the same room as Gaara at all today, and Albus' thrice-damned theatrics might suffer if she hadn't been waiting for the inspector's arrival to make her own timely and dramatic entrance.

"Ah, here she is now."

"This really isn't necessary, headmaster. I would hate to trouble such a key member of your staff." The cadaverous official was watching the door, listening to the grinding of the staircase that he remembered from when he was a boy, while peering out of the side of his glasses at the suspicious old man the Minister no longer trusted.

"That's quite alright. As you said, it's not a social visit so we will do whatever we can to accommodate the Ministry's requests. Besides, Minerva is perfectly capable of managing all of her duties, isn't that right, Professor McGonagall?"

"Quite, Albus. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Morbidus." She lightly shook the man's bony hand as his dark eyes gazed directly at her. "Now, as you are a somewhat early, we'll make a start with the inspection. I imagine you'll be wanting to inspect the grounds around the outside of the castle, as well?"

"Among other areas. The Minister for Magic wanted a very thorough inspection due to the serious matters surrounding the school as of late."

"I hope you'll give Cornelius my best wishes upon your return, and I ask only that you not disrupt the students' learning during the course of your inspection." Blue eyes over half-moon spectacles perched on the end of a crooked nose stared directly into the dark, fastidious holes scrutinising everyone around them.

"But of course, headmaster. After you, _Professor_ McGonagall." The owner of those dark eyes swiftly turned to the door and waved the unnerved Transfiguration mistress through first.

Albus was having serious doubts, now that he'd met the inspector. The resemblance to Morbidus' cousin, Pius Thicknesse, was uncanny and unsettling. What was worse was that the Headmaster knew that Morbidus was aware that they were scheming and would do everything within his considerable capabilities to uncover it. But Albus' role in this game was finished for the moment; he had to leave it up to Minerva and Remus now.

If someone had mentioned, twenty years ago, that he would be entrusting such an important task to one of James Potter's insidious Marauders, he would have laughed, and believed it wholeheartedly. His faith in the insurmountable Gryffindor spirit aside, Remus had always been such a reliable boy, twenty nine days out of the month.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Meanwhile, Gaara and Remus had just delivered the letter - which Gaara suspected to be empty - to Professor Flitwick, who had taken the opportunity to praise the irked demon-host on his success lately, again. Once more, the wandering teacher and pupil had been invited in for refreshments and conversation by their appointment. The shinobi was further put-out when he was handed a fresh glass of milk while Lupin was given tea. It seemed that precious few in this world understood that a younger person was capable of maturity. Gaara wasn't exactly consoled that the miniature Charms professor had also opted to partake of cold milk. Gaara wasn't even that short! Still, outrage aside, he didn't turn the drink down. Cold milk on a hot day was a delicacy in Sunagakure, and even if it was freezing cold outside, he didn't want to be rude.

After finishing their conversation, Flitwick taking one last chance to praise Gaara's hard work and improvement, Lupin and the completely un-bashful transfer student left. As the pair were walking, seemingly aimlessly, through the school, every once in a while Lupin would look at his strange new silver watch and then take them off in another direction, more often than not back the way they had just come. All the while, the devoted teacher continued to talk about material old and new, including some minor wizarding cultural trivia. None of which particularly interested Gaara, but he tried to remember the useless knowledge, sure in the belief that if he failed to learn it, he would eventually be asked about it all.

Truth be told, Gaara had never been to a school of any kind before Hogwarts, his monstrousness, attemped assassinations and Suna's hands-on approach to training meant that he'd never been inside of a classroom. Tests had been given by Yashamaru, but were usually to do with how he'd liked a book or how he felt. Baki had once tried a test, more physical than mental, when they'd first been put onto his team. It hadn't ended well. Now that his life, or at least a large part of it for the time being, was devoted to academia, he became aware of just how hard the civilian students had it, learning so much nonsense.

Several students stopped to stare as Gaara walked by, the '_transfer student's_' legend having spread before most even saw him and his strangeness. So, now, when he walked the halls being tutored by the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and wandlessly controlling sand to form answers he couldn't speak, he gained attention.

At that point, Gaara thought that he'd more-or-less figured out what this _secret plan_ was. Well, he knew that he had been taken out of his regular classes, and then spirited around the school in the full gaze of the student body and teachers, and was being kept in the dark. It was most likely that someone was looking for him, someone that meant to do him harm and not anyone else, and that they had to pretend to be doing nothing out of the ordinary whilst hiding. Even his father could have come up with a better, or at least more secretive plan, than this one. Though that plan most likely would have led to another war, but, then, Gaara _was_ a war machine. These wizards and their underestimating him tested his patience more than people in spandex using their holiday time to run to his village and challenge him to fights.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

After a fake prophecy that assured him that everything would definitely be 'fine' for the foreseeable future from the ill-reputed Divinations professor, Sybill Trelawney, Morbidus was about ready to give up on his mission to locate and investigate the mystery that had been admitted to the greatest wizarding school in Europe. He was a professional, but the frustration of dealing with children who all pointed him in different directions when directly asked about this Gaara child, and the teachers who outright lied to him when he asked if anything strange had happened or appeared in the school recently, was trying his patience. The students would tell fanciful tales of a red-headed boy who could make objects move with his mind and killed first years at night. The only 'facts', or definitive consensus, that he could discern were that the boy was mute, had a distinctive physical appearance, carried a large bag of some kind on his back, and had 'scary eyes'. It was a start but it wasn't the most promising one. Apparently the boy had become a pariah since arriving in the school so most of the tales he heard he chalked up to being nothing more than hearsay.

"Excuse me," The imposing man cornered a short blond-haired boy who had been leaving his class with a group of friends before McGonagall could stop him. "Would you happen to know the third-year Slytherin Gaara, by any chance?" The boy's strong resemblance to Lucius Malfoy was a dead-giveaway, so Morbidus believed himself to have gotten lucky when he saw the young Malfoy heir that would be the same age and House as his target. Surely this would lead to some promising information.

"Yes, he's my roommate. My name is Draco Malfoy, and who might you be?" Proper decorum and hostility befitting a Malfoy; the man could see the boy one day becoming a formidable political figure like his father, and that could only aid him here and now, seeing as the boy had such unrestricted access to his target and was at least loyal to his father, who was playing the part of allegiance to the Ministry, at the moment.

"Good morning, my name is Henrick Morbidus, head of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Administrative Inspectors. Would you mind terribly if I asked you a few questions about your current schooling experience during these... troubled times, and about your roommate, as we don't seem to have his records and such a gap in the Ministry's files is a troubling lapse, I'm sure you agree." While he knew it was rude to play games with Lucius Malfoy's son, he couldn't afford to be as open as he'd like in front of Dumbledore's right-hand witch.

Draco looked up at the man his father had once complained about as being 'a man with more dirty secrets than the Dark Lord' and felt a cold quiver drip down his spine. This man worked alongside his father, a temporary loyalty he had understood for a couple of years now, and he knew he was expected to be up front about all of the peculiarities surrounding Gaara, as if his father himself had asked.

_Instead_, Draco answered: "I'm afraid there isn't much I can tell you, he's very closed-off and, you understand, he can't speak at all. Though, he doesn't sleep much, sir." He hoped this would appear to be just ignorant and not quite as treasonous as it felt. From the look in the inspector's eyes and tight jaw, apparently his ruse hadn't gone unnoticed.

Actually, it had. The head of the Ministry's secret little division was angry because of the combined ignorance of all of these school children, even the son of such a well-bred wizarding family, and the conspiring teachers. Despite the probability that the mystery was just that, a mystery to everyone including the students, even the one he was rooming with, he couldn't risk leaving a well of information untapped so he tried to increase the pressure. After all, throughout this conversation, unlike before, McGonagall hadn't busily asked him to leave the student alone but had instead stood back, tense and wary. "It pains me to hear that a promising new student hasn't opened up to anyone here. As his roommate I would have expected someone with such an astute father as your own to have at least made a measure of someone so close to them." Attack his pride and mention his father in the same sentence, cruel but if the file on the Malfoy family was as accurate as it should be, the son should be afraid of his father and very proud.

"As I'm sure you're learning, Mr Morbidus, sir, Gaara is a bit of an enigma, but you probably haven't been looking very deeply into something like a new student, after all. A man of your position wouldn't have trouble finding information like that, now, would he?" Draco could have kicked himself for falling for the jibe and succumbing to his pride again. He'd just pissed off a man his father was wary of. There _was_ a reason he wasn't in Ravenclaw, and several for why he wasn't in Hufflepuff, but it was times like these that he wondered why the Sorting Hat hadn't at least paused to consider putting him in with the easily-roused Gryffindors.

"Merely running through the appropriate investigative channels. Proper conduct needs to be followed. Now, run along." The cold, quiet, shivering rage in the gaunt man's voice told Draco not to hang around to celebrate his small victory on the terrible man. He quickly scarpered, catching the mix of pride and worry he thought he'd never catch on McGonagall's face pointed in his direction.

"I think it's about time for the students to go to lunch, we should make our way to the Great Hall, perhaps Gaara will already be there and you can finish your clarification there." He doubted it, but he followed his guide nonetheless, on the off chance that they were as foolishly confident as the Malfoy child and had decided to parade this 'Gaara' in front of him.

This was turning out to be a laborious assignment and he wanted something concrete to take back to the Minister, along with his report on the dementors. He still had to follow that up, and would do so soon. He needed to check in the Dark Forest and that forest had been infamously dangerous when he was a child, but now with the dementors it would be perilous even to an adult wizard of his calibre.

"Lead the way."

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Hey, have you seen him yet?" Draco asked, looking around to double-check Gaara hadn't slipped into the hall while his back was turned, again.

"No, everyone's been looking but no one knows where he is. Everyone we ask says he's somewhere else." Roy looked worn out, having spent every moment between classes on this favour for Draco. Finding Gaara had been impossible even after he'd enlisted all of his and Draco's shared friends. Even the teachers hadn't offered to help their quest to recover the lost student. "Don't worry, we'll give Gaara the message eventually."

Draco suspected that Gaara's disappearance and the performance that morning at breakfast were probably to do with the same creepy inspector also looking for Gaara, and that Gaara's much needed private magical tutor, Professor Lupin, was probably moving him around. Still, he had set everything up perfectly for that day and for the target to, coincidentally, go into hiding just wasn't fair.

As he made another sweep of the hall, including the ceiling, because with Gaara that was perfectly feasible, he caught sight of Mr Morbidus and Professor McGonagall entering the Great Hall. The platinum blond quickly slipped into a seat and tried not to draw attention to himself. He'd already earned the scary man's ire and he didn't need to catch his eye. He was perfectly used to dealing with scary people, his father, Gaara and his head of house to name but three, but Morbidus was different in one key way, unlike the other three, Morbidus clearly would have very few compunctions with having him tortured or killed if he crossed his path in any meaningful way.

In retrospect, Draco hoped that the investigation into Gaara wasn't all that important, otherwise he would certainly be contacting his father soon to beg for protection.

And then he looked directly up to the head table and into the watchful eyes of the inspector, without flinching or balking. He should have been cowering, writing letters to his father begging for protection and reassurance, but with that sort of behaviour he wouldn't have been able to face Gaara. Gaara would glare the terrifying Ministry worker into submission or use his sand to... attack in whatever way Gaara's sand actually attacked wizards. He wasn't aiming to be a lion, standing tall and running into all sorts of danger, he'd leave the stupid heroics to the Gryffindors, but he was tired of being nothing more than a snake hiding in the grass. The Dark Lord, a man whose ideals he'd come to doubt but whose abilities and charisma were still admirable in his eyes, would not have shied away from conflicts like a weakling. And while Draco wasn't about to kill or torture the Ministry lackey, he still wasn't about to hide in the grass and wait to get stepped on.

At the teacher's table on the other end of the Great Hall, Morbidus had been seated in between McGonagall and Dumbledore, a move he suspected was to separate him from the other staff members who might fare less hardily than the two veterans of political warfare he was stationed between. He didn't force himself to make small talk and instead spent the mealtime idly sipping the, admittedly sumptuous, soup that had been prepared for him whilst his eyes would dart up and about every few moments to scan the dining hall for anything out of the ordinary. It was over half an hour later that as Morbidus watched and waited for Gaara, a red-headed small boy that would be on his own, he thought he'd gotten lucky, raising an eyebrow in excitement, when he spotted a relatively small ginger boy enter, but was brought down when he recognised Harry Potter at his side and remembered that one of the Weasley boys was a known associate of the Boy Who Lived.

'Time to call it quits on the first line of enquiry.' Leaning over to McGonagall, Morbidus said, "Would you please escort me to the Dark Forest when you are done here. I have been tasked with investigating a particular matter in regards to the dementors and I require access to them directly. I am fully proficient with the Patronus Charm so there shouldn't be any issues with the close contact."

McGonagall wasn't sure which made her more wary, going into the Forbidden Forest filled with dementors among many other nightmarish creatures, of leading the similarly ghoulish entity to investigate the dementors. Quandary though it was, she knew she was more than capable of handling anything in those woods, including the inspector should the need arise. She dabbed her napkin at the corners of her wrinkled mouth and motioned for him to lead the way. She'd lost her appetite anyway.

The walk was quiet and the weather was somewhat fair, considering the autumnal turn it had taken lately. When they approached the edge of the forest, Minerva caught sight of Hagrid carrying something assuredly pungent over his shoulders, and being followed by a Hippogriff of all things. She stood still and held out her arm for Morbidus to do the same and stop. By this time, Hagrid and his companion had also stopped, and the groundskeeper watched carefully as the beast he'd been escorting back to its pen spied the others. Minerva bowed slowly and shakily, her old back not giving as easily as a teenagers might, before a silent, straight and composed bow was performed by the visitor. The Hippogriff regarded them, spending more time eyeing Morbidus, before it too lowered its head acquiescing to their approach.

"Afternoon, Professor McGonagall. Is this the Inspector we were told about?"

"Yes. Mr Morbidus here has asked that he be escorted into the forest to perform a few tests. Would you be so kind as to lead us in?"

"Why, of course. No problem. I've got a class arriving in a little while, though..."

"I'm sure they'll be fine on their own for a few minutes."

Hagrid cheerfully tried to greet the inspector, going so far as to shake his hand, a gesture which was returned immediately if only to humour the oafish man, but none of Hagrid's eternal cheer had any visible effect on Morbidus other than for his head to quickly turn to their destination and for him to briskly suggest that they begin if they had other duties to attend to.

As they reached the outermost edge of the blanketing line of trees, Hagrid lead his Hippogriff charge off into its corale with the others of its kind and the party continued onwards into the darkness. After only a few minutes of travelling Morbidus reached into his smart suit-robes and brought forth a golden disk that fit comfortably in his long hand, on which a small black smudge stained its surface. As he turned, the smudge seemed to correspond, as it were true north on a compass. They set off with the smudge as their bearing, Morbidus proffering minimal explanation in the way of his reasons for investigating, which were that a few dementors has gone missing since their posting at Hogwarts and he needed to discover whether they had fled or whether they had come to harm, which was a considerable concern as it would mean that someone, possibly their target, had a way of defending himself from the guards.

The device lead the trio to a number of dementors over the course of their walk, where McGonagall and Morbidus used the partonus charm to ward them off. Hagrid noted, as he stood behind Minerva trying to find that rogue bar of chocolate he could have sworn he left in his coat last Thursday, that Morbidus' patronus was underdeveloped considering the man's supposed ability and influence. It wasn't even corporeal. But then, Hagrid supposed a man as grim as the inspector might struggle to summon enough happiness to fully manifest one, or maybe the pale man, only a foot shorter than the half-giant, just didn't see the need to summon a full patronus in the company of only one dementor with another competent witch casting nearby. In any case, Hagrid didn't speak aloud any of these thoughts, as he sincerely didn't want to gain any more notice from the inspector than he already had. The Ministry had already taken a lot from him, and last year had shown they wouldn't hesitate in taking more.

After a few more encounters with the dementors still flying around, Morbidus led them to an empty clearing that made the man's tight lips creak upwards on one side in a queer smirk. Once the grin had subsided, he turned to Professor McGonagall and asked her politely to keep watch whilst he performed his examination, to which the confused witch nodded.

Morbidus walked over to the centre of the clearing and stooped low, shifting to one knee, and waved his Ministry gadget over the patch of earth. It beeped and he used the fancy pen he pulled from his pocket to nudge some of the dirt into a small bag before smoothly tucking them both back into his robes and rising.

"Thank you for your indulgence. I believe I now have what I came for." His appreciation was said with a small nod before he turned to Hagrid expectantly.

"Hold a minute, Rubeus. Mr Morbidus, what, may I ask, is it that you came out here for?"

"I suppose something in the way of an explanation is in order. Our reports indicate that a relatively small number of dementors posted here at Hogwarts have gone missing and I have just ascertained that at least one, possibly more, of the missing dementors was killed."

"Killed? A dementor?" Minerva was shocked, "That's not an easy task for any witch or wizard, you don't mean to say that Sirius Black had acquired a wand, do you?"

"I don't mean to imply anything, professor, I am simply here to gather information so that my office, in conjunction with the Ministry, will be able determine after due investigation and consideration the cause behind these disappearances. Before I submit my findings, do you have anything to add, Mr Hagrid? You _are_ the groundskeeper here at Hogwarts, are you not?"

"Well, yes, I mean no. I run the grounds and keep the keys, but I ain't seen nothing that would've attack a dementor."

"Are you saying nothing in this forest could kill a dozen dementors over a few weeks?" Henrick was more curious on this point than fulfilling his duty, since all of the known creatures in the Dark Forest surrounding Hogwarts were recorded and well-documented and they would all be researched in the course of the investigation.

"I'm sure a lot of things could, but most of the animals is dead afraid of them, so they keep clear."

"So you do not have anything to add to my investigation at all, Mr Hagrid? Something in these woods that you patrol is killing the Ministry's dementors and you don't know a single thing. There hasn't been anything strange or out of the ordinary? Tell me, is there _anything_?" The man's voice had gotten a little more agitated as he spoke, well below the level one would associate with anger or frustration, but from the even-speaking Morbidus, it was alarming.

"I'm sure Hagrid would have told you if he had seen anything." McGonagall said with finality.

"Yes, I imagine you are right, but I have to be thorough." He swivelled on his heel again, and said to Hagrid, "Now, if you wouldn't mind, Mr Hagrid. I would like to speak the headmaster again before I depart. I think I have what I need."

As they trudged back to the castle, Hagrid wondered if he should have mentioned that strange little biped he'd seen a few weeks before. Surely it was too small to even reach a dementor, never mind killing one. Maybe it had a parent that was bigger, but then that parent wouldn't have let it run around on its own when it was so small and defenceless. Though, of course, he couldn't say for sure without knowing what the thing was. Still, he decided not to mention it in any case because he didn't want the Ministry sending fifty hunters to smoke it out, along with all of the other things he technically wasn't supposed to harbour out in the forest.

When they exited the canopy of the Dark Forest, Morbidus stopped dead in his tracks without a word and crouched down again. Minerva looked back, worried, before she heard him talking to Hagrid, "Is this a patch of strawberries, by any chance?"

"Why, yes. You have a good eye for produce." Hagrid, for the first time since he'd come into contact with the Ministry official, looked like he had some life in him. Even Morbidus was smiling his grim little smile as he surveyed the vast fields of fruits and vegetables. "I grow most of the fruit and veg for the castle."

"That must be quite the challenge, I don't suppose those over there- Excuse me, I quite forgot myself. Professor McGonagall, would you mind fetching the headmaster. I'll say my goodbyes out here. I've seen quite enough of Hogwarts for one day. Now, Professor Hagrid, do you happen to grow brussel sprouts, by any chance?"

Minerva left quickly, if only to smoulder on her own as she made the long unnecessary trek up to and through the castle so that she could 'fetch' the headmaster. She wasn't a young woman, would it kill people to treat her with a more little respect. She would most definitely be taking a day to herself in the near future. She'd have Severus take over for her. Lupin and her had been spending the entire day playing Albus' absurd games, and he'd been able to continue as normal. It wouldn't surprise her any if Remus didn't get a day or two of his classes covered in the near future as well, which would surely go a long way considering the state he was often left in after a full moon.

By the time she was stood in his office, Minerva practically begged Albus to go on without her as she could hardly stand anymore. With a soft smile, Dumbledore thanked her and set off himself, knowing that he owed his old friend a debt of gratitude a simple 'thank you' wouldn't be able to pay.

Once the headmaster was gone, Minerva shot Fawkes a dirty look just for being an eternally youthful animal. The thing was preening and pretended not to notice the jealous teacher staring at him.

Maybe he'd have to tell her some of the secret passages he used to get about the castle in his frail old age, Dumbledore mused as he walked. He'd wanted to keep those to himself until he retired. They helped maintain the illusion that he was everywhere as well as all knowing. Plus he was able to surprise any slacking students in the corridor. Maybe he should write a few of them down, so that his successor could do the same thing? Hogwarts' headmasters and headmistresses should always be able to pull one over on the inhabitants of the school.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

As McGonagall had unwittingly stridden into the castle alone, Lupin, having diligently watched his little silver compass, led Gaara back out into the ground surrounding the behemoth of a building. The raggedy professor thought it would be nice to join Hagrid again for a light lunch, under the 'guise' of delivering yet another message to the half-giant. Lupin hoped that Gaara was so uninitiated into wizarding culture that he wouldn't know that there were many simpler ways to pass messages between professors.

However, when the pair arrived at the hut for the second time that day, passing the lonely boarhound with the same levels of enthusiasm as before, it was apparent that Hagrid wasn't home. Remus tried looking through one of the hut's windows but with them being so clouded and cracked, he couldn't see any dark looming shapes in the cottage to indicate that Hagrid might be in.

More curious still, in the distance, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, stood (as luck would have it) a third year class of Care of Magical Creatures students, unattended. Apparently their professor hadn't shown up, if their blatant slacking was any indication. Upon approach, it became abundantly clear that the mixed class of Gryffindors and Slytherins hadn't seen hide nor hair of their professor since they arrived after lunch. With no other suitable choice, other than leaving a group of fourteen year-olds to their own devices, Lupin decided to take over the class for the time being, until either Hagrid returned or McGonagall and the inspector left the castle again.

Whilst Lupin wrangled the surprised class and tried to draw upon the limited knowledge he held regarding magical creatures that weren't him, Gaara moved over to stand at the back of the class, knowing full well he didn't need to be taking notes from the overwhelmed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Besides, he'd heard more than enough from the man that day and having had to listen to demonic voices in his head rambling on about murder and carnage for a decade had taught him a few things, including that he had little patience for rambling.

That, and he'd learned he wasn't a cannibal, which had been a great relief to Suna's citizens and a great disappointment to the monster in his head.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Ah, Headmaster. Your Mr Hagrid here was just telling me all about the what's been happening lately on the school grounds. It's been fascinating."

"So you've seen the nettles over behind the wall? I have to admit, I've taken a severe liking to the tea since our Professor Trelawney turned me onto it." Dumbledore was almost insulted at a ploy as simple as that. He trusted Hagrid as much as he did Severus, maybe even more.

"Oh, well, I think I'll have to see them during my next inspection, whenever that may come. Time is pressing."

"You're not leaving are you?"

"Well, it's unfortunate but I have other duties to attend to today. Before I go, I feel I should ask, seeing as how I've had no luck in the matter, whether you could tell me where that transfer student is. What was his name?"

"Gaara?"

"Yes. I had only wanted to check in with the boy, make certain he is settling in alright, but he doesn't seem to be anywhere, or rather he seems to have been everywhere. Is there something I should know, if only to put on record?"

"Your dedication to a bright young student is a breath of fresh air, Mr Morbidus. As you can imagine, any student starting late in Hogwarts is bound to struggle to catch up to his peers on his own-" Albus began but was interrupted quite rudely.

"Which is precisely why myself and the Minister for Magic himself have taken a personal interest in this unusuall matter." Morbidus looked like he wanted to continue, but he too was interrupted.

"Which is why it was decided he would be given a little extra help now and then to meet the excellent standards we wish all of our students to achieve. He's been with Professor Remus Lupin today, as you've no doubt heard. He has been able to help the boy enormously so far, as I'm sure you and the Minister will be glad to hear."

"Quite, but it would be a terrible remiss on my part if I didn't ask for proof regarding this, to settle Minister Fudge's mind."

"Well, there isn't any problem there. We would be happy to show you proof." Albus was a master at games, but that didn't mean he didn't have fun with them still. Dangling things for people like the inspector to snap at was an irresistible pleasure. "I will personally owl you his grade reports so that you can see where we have assessed him to be. You would be amazed at what we can do in such a short time."

"I'm sure I would." Morbidus looked like he was growing colder by the second, his eyes darkening to the depths of a Snape. "But would it not be more efficient if I were to personally meet the boy, seeing as I've come all this way already."

"I wouldn't dream of keeping you, my boy. You're an important man at the Ministry and I couldn't deprive them of your services for a mere triviality. I won't hear of it." Dumbledore had had his fun so he sent the intruder on his way. Albus would deal with Gaara himself, in a way he saw fit. He'd not had a full sense of respect for the government for a long time and the last Wizarding War had proven he was a better judge of character than a collective of politicians.

"Yes, yes, you win. I'm sure you're right, so I will defer to you and eagerly await those results. If they do not continue their current outstanding improvements, I'm sure the Ministry will be able to take some measures in order to alleviate the burden on your staff. On a more sombre note, I'm afraid the dementors will have to remain indefinitely on the grounds of the school and they may have to alter their patrol patterns in the coming weeks to heighten the security. You will, of course, be notified in due time."

"Thank you."

"Now, I think I had better be on my way. It's been a pleasure, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Please do visit again, Henrick."

The inspector's steps faltered just a mite when he heard the taunting old man disrespectfully use his first name. He would most certainly not be returning to the school if he could help it. Far too much hassle when he could have sent any number of his workers to investigate the dementors and the invisible boy.

As his spider-like legs climbed up the steep hill that led to the castle, towards the front gate out of which he planned to exit much like he had arrived, Morbidus mulled over how he would report his findings to the Minister. That Black, or some other entity, had been killing the dementors posted was troubling, but at least he could tell Cornelius that this 'Gaara' child, whilst suspicious in a number of ways, was not an immediate threat and so was unimportant enough to shelve until a later time when they could safely make contact to enter him properly into the bureaucracy. A task he would most certainly not need to perform himself. He could probably even get that insufferable Umbridge to do it. Anything to stop her going on about tagging werewolves and taking away merepeoples jobs or whatever she kept trying to pass in the Wizengamot.

Now that he was stood higher up on the hill, looking down on one side at Albus Dumbledore probably congratulating his oafish assistant-in-distraction, Rubeus Hagrid, and on the other side of the hill, right at the bottom where the grassy fields met the Dark Forest, he saw a class of young teenagers all huddling together unattended as two of them seemed to be having a rather violent argument. Looking closer, peering over his glasses and narrowing his eyes, he spied that one of the quarrelling children was a black haired child that bore a striking resemblance to the pictures of Harry Potter he'd seen on file. And the other was quite removed from the fairly typical looking students that were circling the heated discussion. The shorter of the two had blazing scarlet hair, was carrying a bag of some description on his back that was almost as big as him, and was completely silent.

All of a sudden, the Potter boy had apparently worked himself into a frenzy and pulled his wand before casting a spell at the red-head. Morbidus had little doubt that somehow the boy that he had been searching for all day had ended up right before his eyes, about to get cursed into next week by the boy-who-lived. The poor transfer, probably a muggle-born judging by his not drawing a wand immediately in defence, didn't even try to dodge the incoming curse.

Morbidus had been watching the exchange with a smirk up until the casting, as it appeared the child was indeed just an inexperienced new student that just wasn't on anyone's record, probably because of an abusive household that resulted in the muting injury. Dumbledore's obvious scheming could be chalked up to being paranoid. Nothing whatsoever to be concerned with in these dark times.

After the casting of the low-level curse from Harry Potter's wand, his impressions and priorities radically shifted, as before his eyes, the boy who hadn't drawn his wand or so much as raised a finger, somehow commanded what appeared to be muddy water or _sand_ to stream out of the bottle on his back and form a thick, unyielding shield to protect him entirely.

The fight soon escalated to Potter firing many spells uselessly against the shield that would block them from any and all angles before moving aside so that the child he believed to be Gaara could fire one or two significantly large and more menacing ones back. This cycle repeated for a while, and the strange part about the boy who controlled the sand with such ease and dexterity, other than that he controlled the sand, was that he seemed to have so little skill in his duelling abilities. His spells were unrefined, his wand work and casting were all sloppy and his form and stance were just wrong. But still, the boy looked almost bored, as the sand blocked every attack, even one that the defeater of the Dark Lord sent to fly around to hit him on the back of the head.

Henrick Morbidus gazed on in growing alarm and fascination, all without Dumbledore any the wiser.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sometime before the disagreement had broken out, Lupin had been stood at the front of the crowd of students engaged in an entry-level discussion of what a few of the more diligent students had been learning so far that year whilst dodging questions about why he'd been touring the school with Gaara or who the tall scary man had been. Arguably the most diligent learner outside of Ravenclaw, Hermione Granger wasn't at the front of the class talking to Professor Lupin like she might have enjoyed, instead she was taking a much needed rest alongside Harry and Ron at the back. Well, she deserved the rest, she wasn't so sure about Harry and Ron should have been the first to try and engage a teacher willing to review some of the basic material they'd most certainly not listened to. It was a wonder that her ginger friend expected to pass with his lack of note taking or listening. It really was.

Hermione had been a little worried when Hagrid, who had been so concerned all term with appearing and being professional so that he would be respected as a teacher, was running so late to their class. She was beginning to wonder whether she should go and ask a teacher what was happening, even if she would almost definitely be hated by the rest of the slacking class of Gryffindors and Slytherins for throwing away their free period, when Professor Lupin of all people showed up, followed by Gaara. Lupin, after determining the situation had offered to take the class for a little while until Professor Hagrid returned, as he had no other burning commitments, which was odd as he kept glancing at a silver watch every few minutes as he talked.

Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for the prematurely aged professor as it soon became clear that he couldn't hope to hold an engaging lesson so far out of his field of expertise, so instead he had drawn together some of the more interested students and was talking to them whilst everyone else hung around and held their own conversations. Hermione wasn't interested in Ron and Harry's discussion of the upcoming Quidditch season and the World Cup which would take place in the summer, so instead she surveyed the various clusters dotted around. Most of the Slytherins were huddled like penguins, only occasionally throwing out glares to everyone else. There were also a couple of other Slytherins in their own bubble, which she knew from experience were the 'nicer' Slytherins, the ones who didn't curse as harmfully when they cheated and might not have held the same blood purist views. As far as she knew, there were even a few half blood and muggle-borns in Slytherin, which meant they were under constant threat.

As she turned onto a few Gryffindors who had sat down and pulled out a deck of cards, holding themselves tightly against the cold encroaching on them from the ground, her head did a double take that hurt her neck as he thought she saw something ludicrous in that last cluster. But lo and behold, the absurd and bizarre even in a wizard's world did happen, as she saw Draco Malfoy standing amongst the nicer Slytherins. The foul boy who had previously been the leader in his own little clique of blood purists, even having goons follow him around, was now with the outcasts. Sure, she and everyone else had noticed that Malfoy had been spotted less and less with his usual friends, and Crabbe and Goyle had stopped hanging out with him ages ago, but the disparity had never seemed so clear when one of the malicious glares from the main Slytherin body was sent directly at Malfoy.

Hermione looked around for Gaara, who had approached with Lupin but had stopped short at the back with that same placid-borderline-angry expression on his pale face. She spotted him a little ways off, staring at the woods without blinking for longer than she could herself stare to watch, and she decided to try again to engage him. She had felt, ever since her, Ron and Harry's ill-advised attempt to interrogate Gaara that night in the hospital wing, he had held a certain amount of enmity towards the three of them. It was difficult to be sure when the red-head treated almost everyone with that foreign sense of emotional detachment.

Even with this bad blood between them, Hermione still wanted to try and help Gaara integrate a little more fully into the school. She remembered her first few weeks at Hogwarts, when she'd been an outcast and a 'know-it-all', and she wanted to spare Gaara that. Even Draco seemed to have abandoned him, as their previous separation had entailed, and with this physical and metaphorical distance between them even now in this lesson, she saw that the time was right to move in.

As she took her first step, she heard a scream and a yell from the front of the class followed swiftly by the form of Professor Lupin holding Neville Longbottom and shouting to the rest of the class that he'd take Neville up to the infirmary and that everyone else was to stay exactly where they were until he came back. Hermione watched Lupin struggle to run with the considerable weight of a husky fourteen year-old in his arms up the hill, and she decided not to question what had happened to her housemate, so often did injury find Neville that doing so consistently was beyond anyone. Still, it couldn't be a good sign that Lupin was taking the most direct and most difficult route to the infirmary.

It didn't escape the brunette that when he was rushing away, Lupin had seemed to stress that _everyone_ should stay there. He'd probably meant Gaara, who'd been taken on a wandering lesson all day. Enough of Hermione was free of envy to question whether it had something to do with the inspector who had been making inquiries about the school and the new transfer student. Maybe the last two years of her eventful education was making her paranoid.

Interuption over, and everyone going back to their conversation as Harry and Ron made the effort to go to the front of the class to find out what had happened to Neville, Hermione continued towards Gaara who had taken a book out of somewhere and was reading it... quietly. Seeing him with books so often had, in some ways, convinced the fellow reader that Gaara might actually be a nice person, ignoring their first real encounter in the medical wing; and that all he needed was a chance to get away from all of those Slytherin bigots.

Despite her noble intentions and insistence as well as her attempts at breaching an agreeable topic, Gaara totally ignored her and her efforts. She only realised she was speaking to herself after five minutes when Gaara, who had been reading all this time, marked his place at the beginning of a new chapter and moved the book behind his back, under his gourd where he apparently kept a bag, and continued ignoring her by staring into space in front of him.

Any normal person might have taken this disinterest in conversing as a sign to give up, but being the hard-working Gryffindor that she was, Hermione drew upon the handful of sign language words she knew from when she was younger and had found an interesting book about it. Her conclusion was that the mute Gaara must have been offended all of this time that no one had tried to communicate with him through the proper language and had instead relied on his abilities with the sand, which must surely be tiring for him considering the weight of the sand and complexities of wandlessly and wordlessly controlling it to such a fine degree. If he was responsive, which in her mind was almost certain considering her flawless logic, she would get to studying so that maybe he could open up to her.

She walked up in front of him and apologised for being so insensitive, but he didn't give any sign he'd heard, his eyes hadn't even registered she was there. When she brought her hand up in front of her chest and made the sign for hello and sorry, Gaara's eyes finally reacted by following her hands carefully and his eyebrow rising. She smiled brightly, believing she'd finally cracked him, but after a few moments when nothing more happened on either side, his eyes went back to their fixed stare at the horizon and she was almost out of ideas. There was only one thing left to do: get creative. After all, maybe all the lonely and vulnerable Gaara needed, seeing as he looked a little younger than he was said to be, was a hug...

Walking closer to Gaara, she circled him a little, looking for the best way to initiate the unsolicited and surely unexpected physical contact, and she decided just small hug from the side wouldn't be too intimidating for Gaara. The mute Slytherin didn't seem like he had received too many hugs before and she didn't want to scare him off. He didn't move a muscle as she came closer, and also didn't move when her arms moved out in front and behind him. He didn't even move a muscle when, as she tried to bring him into an embrace, she was met violently by a wall of sand that seemed to spring out of nowhere and push her back at least six feet and onto her back.

All the while, Gaara really hadn't noticed any of it. He'd been in his head, trying to work out whether he'd remembered to sort the laundry he'd left in his and Draco's room. He didn't trust the House Elves to do it for him as they didn't seem very bright and he didn't want his shirt to get dyed accidentally. He was only brought out of his ponderings when he heard a loud shouting. The Jinchūriki was peeved to be distracted, as he'd already been bothered by that Gryffindor girl who walked out in front of him and tried to copy one of his hand signs, as far as he could tell.

"Hey, you jerk! Say sorry, right now!" Harry was fuming as he marched closer to Gaara who was still ignoring him and everyone else in the class who'd turned to stare at the boy when they'd heard and seen the wall of sand knock Hermione away from him. Ron was helping Hermione back to her feet, which were still fairly shaky after the unexpected aggression from Gaara's side. She tried to explain that it was all really her fault and that she'd been too forward and had startled Gaara, but she was ignored yet again. "Apologise to Hermione, right now!" Harry screamed at Gaara, who'd finally turned to take notice of what was happening. The only reply he got was a non-verbal tilt of the head, signalling that Gaara apparently didn't understand what he'd done wrong.

Harry became more fired up than he'd been in a long while at Gaara's disregard of his friend's safety and pulled out his wand. "You think you can do whatever you want because Professor Lupin has been giving you special treatment and extra help, but you don't deserve any of it. God, you're such an ass even your own House of snakes can't stand to be around you! You had one friend here and somehow even _Malfoy_, of all people, found you to be too repulsive to stand being around. And now you think it's okay to just knock around my friend when they were trying to be nice to you?"

Though Gaara had turned to him, he didn't take any more notice of what Harry was saying, instead he was wondering why he had sand out. Maybe Shukaku had repelled something and Potter had taken offence for some reason. That could be it. Still, when someone threatened him, with wand or kunai, Gaara didn't take it lightly. Especially since this was the perfect sort of situation that Shukaku would like to utilise to take control if he wasn't on guard. The shinobi didn't trust whatever had happened to the seal to keep Shukaku at bay so he kept his guard up and took a hold of the sand outside and inside the container with his chakra.

At seeing no reaction still, Harry screamed and launched his opening attack at Gaara, following up and pair of smaller stunners to either side of the shorter opponent, sure in the knowledge that when Gaara tried to dodge his first attack, he'd be caught by one of the others. But then the sand sprung up almost too fast for his eyes to follow and blocked the centre spell. Harry brought his wand up again, but had to jump quickly to avoid whatever overcharged spell Gaara had seen fit to retaliate with. Fortunately whatever it was didn't hit any students behind him. Gaara was a menace when attempting to do anything normal with magic, which just meant it was all the more perilous duelling against him.

Harry kept firing spells as fast as he could whilst running all around, even behind Gaara, looking for a weak spot in his impenetrable defence. Only one of Harry's spells made it through the sand wall, having snuck past before the block had been completed, but Gaara had been able to deflect the tickling hex with his own wand before countering swiftly.

The duel was fairly short lived as Harry made the erroneous decision to move closer in order to heighten his chances to firing a spell through the sand defence that seemed to react even when Gaara was unaware. But when he was close enough, Gaara's free hand shot out and made a fist, sending out a blast of sand thick enough to send Harry over onto his back before his wand was wrenched from his hand by the sand and dropped into Gaara's own.

With Gaara's wand pointed at the downed and unarmed Harry, everyone present held their breaths and waited. The winner slowly stepped towards the loser, his sand still coiling protectively around him as Gaara's hand stretched out again, his eyes fixed on Harry's spectacled ones. The sand creeped along the ground and then went up, covering the Boy-Who-Lived's legs. Harry clawed furiously as the sand continued to climb, tightly binding him. As the sand cocoon reached his chest, making it harder and harder for Harry to breathe, he felt so afraid watching Gaara's eyes widen and stretch, looking so angry at him.

Only when the sand reached Harry's neck, did Draco shout, "Gaara, stop!"

The red-haired ninja seemed to snap out of his trance, his eyes lowering their intensity to their usual levels and his hands reached up to his head, clutching at his temples. Whilst he looked to be experiencing the mother of all headaches, the sand encapsulating Harry lost its cohesion and he was able to wriggle free and crawl away to where his friends helped him up.

Soon, Gaara's grimace and clenched teeth disappeared and his hands dropped to his sides, where one made a small motion for the sand to return onto his back. He dropped Harry's stolen wand and walked away in a daze. Gaara didn't want to kill anymore children. It was common knowledge that shinobi killed from time to time for money, but he'd killed for fun, Shukaku's fun, and he was a monster.

As Gaara wandered away, lost in the past, Ron and Hermione helped up their friend, but no one present knew what a miracle it had been that all Harry had received were a few cuts and scrapes. Hermione was apologising profusely for what she'd done, though she wasn't too clear on exactly what it was, as she checked Harry over for any more serious injuries. Ron, on the other hand, was as furious as Harry had been, swearing he'd get that monster for what he'd done to both of his friends. All three of the trio were greatly disheartened at what had just transpired, as it went to prove that despite the recent lapse in Slytherin attacks against them from Malfoy that had lead them to hope that maybe things would change for the better, but now they knew that Slytherins really were all rotten. Even Hermione was struggling to see how Gaara could have meant anything other than to hurt her and Harry.

Draco, who was now stood away from the moderates, was also a little upset at events. Partly, the antagonist in him still wanted to see Potter in more serious pain, but the other part, the pacifist, was concerned about his normally placid roommate. He wanted to storm over to Potter and his mud-b, his friend and demand answers for what just happened to set Gaara off, but it was clear that the entire Gryffindor half of their class would swiftly attack given the slightest Slytherin provocation at this point, and it was unlikely that his old friends among the snakes would be forthcoming with their help in a fight.

It was more likely that the Slytherin side of the class would egg the Gryffindors on when it came to Draco these days. He was the second most hated Slytherin, after the obvious first. Fortunately he still hadn't been openly called a blood-traitor, as word of such an insult would inevitably reach his father's ears and then any howlers he received from his parents would seem like praise compared to the hell that would rain down upon him.

With nothing left to do and not being on the right terms to go after Gaara to help him, Draco walked back to his new friends who were markedly quieter around him now. It was becoming a belief around the castle, surrounding Gaara's ongoing legend, that the only one that could control the savage demon was the one that had made a contract with it. People were saying that Draco had summoned Gaara in order to become the next Dark Lord. Draco actually laughed when he first heard about that, as he had briefly considered that application of his friendship with Gaara but had had to dismiss it completely since Gaara listened to very little of what he said. Nevertheless, this latest incident only further alienated Gaara and subsequently Draco from the other students.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Just as Gaara stalked away from the class he'd just terrorised, the device that tracked the remains of the dementors followed his movement and registered the small traces of the dementor dust inside the child's gourd. Morbidus turned as he heard approaching footsteps coming down the hill, and saw a teacher he'd not yet seen in the castle, meaning he was presumably the Professor Lupin who had been aiding in hiding this strange creature all day long.

Lupin choked back a gasp as he returned outside to see the tall, straight-backed form of the inspector gazing intently at the retreating shape of Gaara down by the class he'd left only twenty minutes before. His steps slowed and his blood ran cold when the inspector turned to him and flashed a small smug smile and a curt nod in his direction. All of Lupin's work to keep Gaara hidden and safe had been for nothing now.

Lupin stood before his adversary and couldn't keep from sweating as he had no idea of what to do next. He couldn't fight his way out of this, he couldn't bribe or trick or persuade the inspector. He saw, from behind Morbidus, that Dumbledore was slowly making his way back up the hill towards the castle, and they shared the same distressed look to see Morbidus was still there, still displaying that triumphant smile.

When Albus arrived he wanted to ask what Morbidus had seen so that he could work out a strategy of denial or maybe even to pre-empt the report to Fudge by flooing him immediately to disclose some information, all he'd need to do was delay the inspector half an hour. But Morbidus stopped him short by saying, "Thank you very much for accommodating this most... interesting inspection, Headmaster. I'll be on my way now." He didn't turn to look back nor did he slow his pace. It was as if he was trying to stop from skipping along with his giant legs, he was so exalted with his discovery.

He strode through the school with purpose, the small children having to rush to get out of his way, and as soon as he'd passed over the bridge and was outside of the wards of the castle, Morbidus apparated straight to the entrance of the Ministry, where he barged past the lines of employees trying to get into the building, scaring many of them with his mere presence.

The foreboding man strode straight into Cornelius Fudge's office, ignoring the Minister's secretary's feeble protests, and demanded an immediate debriefing despite Lucius Malfoy sitting across from the Minister currently having a meeting. Insincerely, Morbidus apologised as Lucius was ushered out of the office. Once the door was locked and the standard privacy spells had been cast, the Head of the Minister's Administrative Inspectors gave the report on his findings. He told of how the dementors were being killed and that Black was not the culprit, how this 'Gaara no Sabaku' had probably been responsible, that he probably wasn't entirely human, and that this Gaara was definitely something to be concerned about.

Morbidus left Fudge's office with the Minister himself holding his fat head in his red hands, and the beanpole of an official offhandedly remarked to Lucius that he should be more careful of who his son allies himself with in future if he was to remain in the Ministry's good favour.

Fudge realised that his problems had now tripled thanks to this report. Not only was the mass murderer and Death Eater, Sirius Black on the loose after having slipped past the dementors in Azkaban, but now he had be concerned with this strange Gaara that had been allowed in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Gaara was an enigma that the Ministry couldn't allow. They had no records of him, they didn't even have a surname to go on, just rumours of something along the lines 'Sabakuno', but that hadn't turned up anything either. And most troubling of all with Gaara, his wand didn't have the trace on it, as had been mandatory for all wands made for over four hundred years. Morbidus had been diligent to trace all of Gaara's movements outside of Hogwarts, even to Olivander's, before looking for the boy himself.

But even Gaara seemed unimportant in light of the biggest problem he now faced; Fudge could no longer trust his long time ally and confident Albus Dumbledore. If Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard still alive, was using the greatest magical school in the world to keep secrets from him at a time like this, then he was going to have one hell of a fight on his hands in the future. The Minister for Magic needed to take action, but even the inept politician that he was recognised that he couldn't recklessly charge into this matter. He'd need to be extra careful on this.

He invited Lucius back in, but kept what he'd just been told to himself.

Things were certainly dire.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

By the following morning in the castle things were back to normal, for the students, at least. Gaara was suffering the dreadful nausea he had come to associate very closely with attending Divinations; however, the short bijū container had recently come to the wonderful solution that allowed him to nullify the worst of the tower's aroma therapy stench by burying his nose in a cup of tea for the hour-long lesson. His plan, whilst a little distracting from whatever it was that he was supposed to be learning, did also have the added benefit of making him look like he was working hard to 'gaze into the future' with his 'mind's eye' as he intently studied the bottom of his tea cup. Anything to distract Trelawney from giving him another worrying prophecy was a plentiful bonus.

On the other hand, after a few weeks, it occurred to the professor and the class that they hadn't studied tea leaves since the first week and no one present knew where Gaara had gotten his cups of tea from. It was dismissed, though, as of all of the strange things Gaara had done, summoning a cup of tea from out of nowhere was really rather inconsequential.

During this lesson, they were supposed to be using Tarrot cards with the people they were sitting across from to predict their fates. As fate would have it, Gaara had been sat next to Ronald Weasley since Trelawney wanted to test Ron's inner eye on someone other than the perpetually doomed Harry and the doubter Hermione. In the end, it seemed that Gaara had the same luck as Harry, as Ron kept telling him over and over that he was dead or going to die, usually with a menacing snarl or glare. It really didn't make for good tea-time conversation.

After his tea and the lesson had ended, Gaara was walking down away from the Tower of Bad Smells, when he spotted Draco breaking away from the flowing mob moving towards the Great Hall. Gaara was grateful that he'd be able to sit down for peaceful meal without the looming sense of dread that emanated from the evil aura Draco had been cultivating the past few weeks. Little did he know, Draco had decided today was the day for his plan to finally be enacted.

In the Great Hall, Gaara was practically in heaven as he ate the gizzard dish he'd finally gotten around to requesting the night before. To tell the truth, Gaara was little surprised that the House Elves in the kitchens had actually received the note he'd left with his dirty dishes, but even more surprising was that they were able to read. He had wanted to go down to the kitchen to request some more home-like dishes, but every time he had gone down there for something to give to Fluffy, he had found none of the elves were willing to get close enough to him for a chat. Fortunately, the elves apparently still liked him enough to cook him his special dish... or they were _really_ afraid of him. Either way, it was nice to have a taste of home again.

As he snacked down on yet more of the chewy treat, an eclectic delicacy where he came from, one of Draco's new friends began to zigzag towards him, looking about as afraid as he'd seen someone act around him in months. Apparently this boy, something Norbel if he remembered correctly, had been one of the more acutely affected witnesses to his sparring match with Potter the day before. Gaara had decided to call it a sparring match as he didn't want to admit how close he'd been to killing the nuisance. Still, Gaara chomped down on his gizzard-on-toast slowly as he watched Norbel approaching slowly, as slowly as if he were approaching a wild lion. Gaara was half surprised the moderate hadn't brought a first-year as a human sacrifice in case the red-head had been less than amicable.

Really, people were acting like he had actually off'ed the Boy-Who-Lived. He might as well have, with people acting the way they were, but it was probably a bit too late now to find Harry, kill him and claim he was just finishing off their fight. Still...

"Um, Gaara?" Gaara stopped looking around the hall for the Potter boy and his two friends and turned back to Roy who'd finally plucked up the nerve to come within biting distance, figuratively speaking. Gaara watched blankly for a few seconds and wondered if he was supposed to confirm that he was in fact the "Gaara" Roy had been looking for. Seeing as Roy hadn't moved a muscle since his mouth closed, close to bolting, Gaara guessed, he nodded carefully.

At Gaara's acceptance, Roy breathed out a little, trying to calm himself down.

Maybe Gaara was acquiring the reputation of being a budding Dark Lord, and that was how Volde-whatsit had treated his underlings, by killing them when they spoke out of turn? It just went to show how peaceful this world had been for the past decade, when Gaara hadn't even killed anyone and he was still being treated like a mass-murderer. If only they knew the truth.

Gaara had to stop the smallest curvature of a smile from pulling at his lips at the thought of the pandemonium the truth would unleash, when Norbel moved onto why he had actually approached Gaara, which was probably quite important seeing how scared everyone was of him at the moment. "D-D-Dumbledore wants to see you. M-m-" If the addressee didn't know any better, he might have thought Roy had been about to call him 'Mister Gaara'. "He said to meet him by the big tapestry on the Fourth Floor. D-do you know where that is?"

The big, scary sadistic part of the shinobi considered 'saying' no, just to force the Slytherin boy to accompany him. Poor Roy probably wouldn't have made it to the third floor before he wet his pants. But instead Gaara took pity on Draco's friend and nodded and watched him back away slowly, never turning his back. It was only as he watched the retreat that Gaara saw that many people around him had seen the exchange and looked even more scared than before. Next thing he knew, Gaara was probably going to be called Dark Lord Sandimort. That was the last thing he needed, another ridiculous name.

As he made his way upstairs, giving up on the rest of his lunch after he'd finished his special requests, he wondered exactly what the headmaster wanted to say to him. It was obviously going to be in regards to the fight yesterday, but Gaara couldn't fathom what the educator would want to say about the friendly little duel, seeing as no one was killed or permanently maimed.

As far as Gaara knew, which was admittedly as limited as the amount of people willing to tell him things, Harry and Hermione hadn't had any injuries worth talking about after the events yesterday. Maybe Dumbledore had to give him a slap on the wrist, seeing as fighting wasn't encouraged in civilian schools. But then, why hadn't Harry been called up instead, seeing as he'd started it.

Gaara found the big tapestry quickly enough, which was to be expected with just _how_ big the thing was. It spanned the entire length of the corridor, running parallel to the windows, all except one of which were closed. The Jinchūriki wondered where Dumbledore was. It was terribly rude to invite someone to talk and then not show up in a timely manner. How was he supposed to learn a lesson about respecting the rules when the headmaster didn't even follow basic etiquette?

Gaara stood by the open window, grimacing at the cold now chilling him to the bone but admiring spectacular view of the lake and valley. Even on a grey day like this one, Gaara thought Scotland was a beautiful place.

But then Scotland moved a couple of feet downwards and Gaara took a moment to reflect on why that was. Looking down, Gaara saw that the carpet he was stood on was now hovering steadily in the air, and suddenly his magical-aviaphobia flared into life and the well-honed reflexes and enormous power at Gaara's disposal abandoned him.

Gaara felt paralysed as the jinxed flying-carpet flew up and out of the open window and through the clear air. Some kind of sticking charm stopped him from sliding off but that was little consolation as Gaara's mind was filled with unprecedented panic. Gaara hadn't been hurt a lot of times in his life, and even fewer times were those injuries anything serious. So his fear of flying magically was quite profound, as was his fear of lightning and lightning-cutters. If Gaara ever met a thousand chirping birds, he would probably have a strong aversion to them as well.

The enchanted carpet soared high in the air, swooping and diving. It completely escaped his notice at the time, but Gaara later heard that a sizable number of students had witnessed what was going on from the ground.

The flight lasted, thankfully, only a few short minutes, but to Gaara it could have lasted all day for how it had felt to him. By the time the carpet began to make its final descent, Gaara was close falling back into sitting, but his legs held out long enough for the carpet to dive towards the ground only pulling up in time to run parallel to it. Gaara was just about ready to summon the strength to jump off onto the ground, when he saw his carpet-ride was now above the glassy surface of the Black Lake.

The carpet stalled for one terrible moment, in which Gaara looked up and saw Draco sitting on the shore of the lake with that ridiculous, great big smile he'd seen on only one other blond in his life. Gaara called his sand out as quickly as he could, knowing for sure what was to happen next, but before he could make a stable platform, Draco's wand, now in his hand, pointed downwards in a most sadistic motion. The carpet seemed to go slack under Gaara's feet and then he was falling again, all of ten feet into the piercingly cold water.

The one solace, that he later recognised, was that his sand was spared as it was still floating attentively (mockingly) above the surface alongside the carpet that was dangling like the strings on one end had been cut.

Gaara burst through the top of the water, taking in a big breath and gasping in a silent scream at how cold the water was. He actually saw ice forming at the edge of the lake. The biting cold was only confounded when Gaara heard and saw the absolutely raucous laughter coming from his spectating roommate. The howling laughter only ceased once Gaara managed to pull himself on top of the water's surface and began to walk along it like the scariest little messiah Draco had ever seen. Even the 'miracle' in front of him didn't stop Draco from smiling like he hadn't smiled in weeks.

Gaara walked atop the water, avoiding the icy lake and the admittance that he wasn't a particularly strong swimmer, while his sand reformed his gourd and reattached itself to his back all without him making any gesture, so intent was he that he wanted to reach dry, stable earth again. Gaara continued walking, right up to Draco, until they were close enough for the blond to see Gaara's miniscule shivers. The drenched part-time tanuki stood there for a little while; a lengthy pause to deliberate his response.

Sand flew out of Gaara's gourd and Draco couldn't stop himself from flinching until he saw that they were spelling out a message instead forming sharp tendrils to kill him, which he'd always assumed was a possibility.

The message read: 'We are even now.' With Gaara under it trying his hardest to suppress his shivering enough to raise his eyebrow and look as stoic as usual.

Draco slumped his shoulders, sighed in relief and confirmed that they were definitely even now and that he was glad it was over with. The dry Slytherin was readying to offer Gaara a little assistance up to the castle to get changed into dry clothes but before anything more could be passed between them, Gaara nodded at Draco in some unknowable benevolent gesture, and then_ shunshined _back into the castle and to their room. It would be so much easier getting changed now that Gaara didn't have to dodge Draco to get back into their room.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"How did this happen?" McGonagall was concerned to see just how worn out this whole affair had left Albus. As the headmaster had asked this damning question, his head was resting on top of his hands, meaning to look to his most trusted staff members like he was in deep concentration but Minerva knew that really Dumbledore just didn't have the energy to sit up straight right now. Even if McGonagall had been walking up and down stairs all day, Albus had been performing countless spells to manipulate the castle's stair cases and secret passages as only a headmaster could. It was at times like these that Minerva remembered that unlike her, Albus wasn't just getting old, he was already almost twice her age.

"I'm sorry Headmaster. If I hadn't left Gaara on his own, Morbidus wouldn't have seen a thing." Lupin was looking like the runner up in this contest of attrition, appearing to be stressed, probably having not slept the night before. And with the full moon approaching, Remus would be feeling this acute weight tenfold.

"I don't mean to cast blame, I just-"

"Well, I _do_ wish to cast blame. Your failure had left one of _my_ students in the line of fire. Do you think Morbidus will leave it at this? This is only the beginning, and now he's seen Gaara and seen what he can do, the flood if going to be at the castle's walls in a matter of weeks, maybe days! Don't say you're sorry, it doesn't mean a thing when you've already caused this much damage." Severus wasn't pulling his punches this evening, and with how angry he was, no one present felt it was a good idea to mention that Severus detested Gaara and that he had no right to be angry on his behalf.

"Hold on a minute there, Professor Snape," However, despite it not being a good idea, Hagrid wasn't one to drop a moral qualm, "everyone knows how you feel about Gaara. You don't have the right to be getting angry at Professor Lupin here when he tried his best to help. Where were you when all of this was happening?"

"Enough! Severus, now isn't the time for blame, Albus is right. We need to work out what the next move will be and how best to minimize the damage." Minerva was in no mood to see her old students argue with kind Rubeus in the middle of their meeting.

"Thank you, Minerva. But the Ministry has already made their move. I received an owl from Cornelius this morning, notifying me that Azkaban are going to be assigning more dementors to Hogwarts in the near future, as a precaution against whatever had been attacking them, as well as an added measure against Sirius Black."

"Do we know when these replacement dementors will be arriving?"

"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, Severus. The Minister feels that in order to ensure the safety of our students, he wants to increase the number of dementors guarding the school. He intends to have three times the current number guarding Hogwarts' borders."

"What?" Minerva looked aghast, "You cannot be serious, Albus. That many dementors here? What about Azkaban itself? Surely they can't be intending to take away that many of its guards, breakouts will become a weekly occurrence."

"I imagine they'll leave a sufficient guard at the prison. The numbers will probably be made up of the other dementor colonies around the world that the British Ministry and the chiefs in Azkaban can control. Gathering that many won't be easy, even for the Minister, but it's probably his way of telling us that he's stepping up the game." Remus didn't enjoy the prospect of that many dementors around, with Sirius so close by.

"You don't mean to say that Cornelius intends to declare war on Hogwarts, do you?" McGonagall's hand flew to cover her mouth, an uncharacteristic gasp showing everyone just how perilous the situation was. "They wouldn't go so far because of one student, surely."

"Professor Lupin is right," As much as it pained Severus to admit it, "Minister Fudge is making his intentions known. This isn't about one child, even Fudge isn't so simple as to take such a gamble over any one boy, no matter how monstrous or obscure. His isn't declaring war; he's telling us that he knows we can't be trusted, so he's making this into our term-time prison, complete with guards."

"That can't be right. I know the Ministry sometimes makes mistakes, but there's no one in the entire world that cares about the school more than Professor Dumbledore, they know that." Hagrid looked either angry or confused, it was often hard to distinguish the two where the half-giant was concerned.

"Fudge doesn't care, and neither does Morbidus. They now know that Albus and the rest of the school are keeping secrets, and after the last few years at this school, those secrets are clearly not ones to be scoffed at. Morbidus is a veteran, and he sees any kind of mistrust as the enemy. And we all know how paranoid Fudge has been around Dumbledore thanks to those silly rumours about Albus running for Minister of Magic. We are most certainly not at war, but the eyes of the Ministry are now firmly on us." Severus knew enough to be as worried as Minerva and Albus.

"But that's okay, isn't it. It's not like we've got anything to hide, right?"Hagrid was looking around the room, trying to see agreement and not finding it.

"Rubeus, I'm afraid there are a number of secrets, among other things, that Hogwarts holds that should be kept out of the hands of politicians, chiefly the futures of our students. I'm afraid there isn't anything else we can do for the moment other than to teach our classes, run the school and try our best to remain calm. This must, under no circumstances, reach the ears of the other staff members or, even worse, the students. We must show Cornelius that this school's absolute concern is for the students within its walls, nothing more and nothing less."

And suddenly it occurred to Lupin and Snape why Gaara had been admitted to the school. Both of the men had puzzled over this conundrum for the past two months as it just didn't make any sense to them. To admit a strange student into the middle of his education without knowing a thing about him... it was to protect him. Lupin felt a wave of relief wash away some of the doom that had been lingering thanks to this conversation. Severus felt more annoyed than relief, as he still couldn't see the purpose to caring for some disturbing little magical creature (nothing like Gaara could be a full-blooded human).

The two hopelessly trusting men came to the wrong conclusion as Albus moved on to less problematic recent events, namely why he had seen the subject of their latest problems, Gaara, flying out of a fourth floor window on an illegally imported magic carpet.

The staff members briefly discussed the prank but all eyes turned to Snape when Lupin asked whether Gaara had taken any moves towards revenge. They might have to move the student to a new school for his own safety. But Snape said that as far as he knew, things were going smoothly, and Gaara had even moved back into the dorms instead of sleeping rough. Minerva was upset that one of the students had been camping out in the classrooms all this time, but relented when Remus said Gaara's friendship with Draco was probably best left unprobed.

No one mentioned them outright, but all thoughts of the culprits were naturally directed at the Weasley Twins who had been out of control this year. They weren't mentioned out loud because there was no evidence for the accusation whatsoever, and none present could quite figure out how the austere Weasley's had managed to save up enough money to buy a magic carpet on the black market.

Snape later tried to recall where he had heard the black market being mentioned a few weeks ago, but soon dropped the thought as none of his Slytherins would possibly sink so low as to perform practical jokes, and on their own housemate, no less.

The twins for their part had been gobsmacked to see Gaara, the scariest student in Hogwarts, and recent defeater of the defeater-of-You-Know-Who, being flown around on a magic carpet before being dunked in the lake. McGonagall had taken housepoints from them when they'd stood up the middle of her class and began applauding out the window. Minerva for her part had had to pretend that she hadn't seen a thing, in order to bring her class in line. But this whole event had left the twins a little out of sorts, as it was a prank that they just couldn't replicate. Not only were flying carpets incredibly expensive (and they had to prank within their means) but Gaara was a psychopath and they weren't willing to make a target of themselves to upstage the mystery prankster. They'd have to find some other way of retaking their place at the top of the school's most wanted list (pinned to Filch's door despite requests by the staff to stop criminalising students).

At the end of the meeting, Albus held Severus back a few moments to talk with him, "Severus, I wonder if I might make a request of you?"

"What is it, Headmaster?" Severus droned out, never liking this vein of conversation. It never boded well for him when Dumbledore asked him for anything. He had scars that he could attribute to favours he'd given, and god forbid Albus ever repay him for them...

"I want to discuss your readmitting Gaara into your Potions classes." Snape opened his mouth wide, ready to shout his refusal to the heavens but he was stopped when Albus raised his hand to finish what he needed to say. "With Gaara's progress in mind, I believe Potions is the only class that Gaara hasn't had an opportunity to improve in. Surely you can't bar a student from learning when they clearly still have so much to learn and a willingness to do so."

"You don't know the damage that boy has brought about in my classroom since the term began. He's set fire to the stones of Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake! And besides that-"

"I am well aware of your feelings regarding Gaara, but putting personal grudges aside, this is a school, Severus, and like or not, you are a teacher. It is your duty to impart your knowledge onto each and every one of the students that pass through these halls." Albus was getting desperate, resorting to beseeching Severus on behalf of the Slytherin's pride as a teacher.

"Very well. I will let it return to my class on the condition that I be allowed to remove him permanently if he causes any more danger to the others in his class."

"We will discuss it if the occasion arises. Well, I am very glad that you have seen sense, Severus. I'm sure you will soon see why all of the other teachers have begun to sing Gaara's praise lately."

"We'll see." 'You meddling old coot.'

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

As the war council in the Dumbledore's office was winding down, in the Slytherin dormitories, Draco was catching up on some of his long-neglected correspondence. Gaara was asleep in his bed on the other side of the room and even in his sleep he looked fittingly happy to not be sleeping on his increasingly uncomfortable (improvised) _sand bed_ technique. Now, Draco knew Gaara didn't necessarily _need_ sleep, so it just went to show how happy the racoon-impersonator was, that Draco had been forgiven so readily.

The real wizard didn't see why his roommate couldn't express any of his emotions... at all, really. He knew excess emotion was suited for the lesser houses, but Draco couldn't remember if he'd ever seen Gaara even smile and he'd definitely never seen Gaara laugh, hell Draco couldn't even imagine his impossibly stoic friend chuckling. It was actually quite the scary thought.

And Draco didn't need another reason to be afraid right now, so he stopped trying to picture Gaara exhibiting emotions like a normal person. He'd cast his most powerful silencing spells and wards around the room's writing desk, just so that whatever he'd been ignoring in his post wouldn't wake up his slumbering housemate. He would hate to wake up Gaara, for Gaara to do something impulsive, and ruin their status quo again. And quite apart from that, he didn't need his friend hearing what his irate parents had to say to him. Some things didn't belong in the ears of a teenager's friend's ears, even if Gaara wasn't exactly the type to tease.

Draco picked up the earliest letter he had stacked and slid his silver, Malfoy-family-crested, jewel-embossed letter opener along the seam and pulled the parchment out. Sure enough, the dark green ink was styled in his father's overly elegant script, but at least it was a relatively short communiqué.

'_Dear Draco,_

_Your mother and I have been waiting these past few days for your weekly owl but it seems that you've become so distracted at school that you have forgotten your duties beyond the walls of our house. You had best write as soon as you receive this or there will be dire consequences in line for you._

_In your letter, I want you to tell me some more about your new roommate, Gaara. I gather he is something of a mystery but I want you to tell me everything you know. There have been some discrete inquiries floating around as of late and as the father of this Gaara's roommate, I have a right to know about him, not to mention that it is expected that I know. If he is a mudblood or some no name half-blood, worry not; I am on the board of governors and I will have him expelled from Slytherin if need be. _

_On an assuredly separate matter, I want to know what has happened between you and the Crabbe and Goyle boys. Their parents have been begging my forgiveness for some _

_slight I might take over you falling out with them. Whatever has happened, I trust you will have fixed it by the time I receive your reply. I understand associating with those simpletons is troublesome but as you grow you will understand more just how necessary their protection is._

_Begin writing your report immediately._

_Yours sincerely, your father,_

_Lucius Brutus Malfoy, _

_(Head of the Pure and Powerful House of Malfoy)_

_P.s. Your mother sends her regards.'_

Well, that hadn't been as bad as he'd feared, though Draco wasn't looking forward to openly refusing his father's order to re-befriend Vincent and Gregory. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried early on, at least, but they had seemed terrified of him, or more likely terrified of Gaara. They were unnaturally scared of his roommate before it became cool, so perhaps Lucius would allow him to forgo keeping the Crabbe and Goyle families on side in favour of something else. Maybe he could convince his father that Gaara had taken up the post, as he was pretty sure Gaara was stronger than both the henchmen-to-be put together, and his father would never accept that Draco had an actual 'friend' in the more traditional, Gryffindor sense. Frankly, Draco found it hard to grasp at times.

As much hope as he had been granted by the leniency in that first letter was soon turned to despair and doubled when he saw how many more weeks of letters there were to follow, including a fair few with noticeably more feminine handwriting on the addresses. That meant his mother had also gotten involved.

Of course, Draco had known his mother had sent him letters, probably a few of her own brand of howlers, but in the brief moments of reading his father's business-like letter, he had foolishly allowed himself to forget.

He carefully used his letter opener to crack the wax seal on the back of the envelope this time, not willing to test what happened when you opened a howler the wrong way. Fortunately his mother's first letter was somewhat less furious than he had anticipated. In fact, the entire letter really boiled down to how angry his father was, how she was beginning to worry, and wanting to know how he was doing. Oh, and she was also curious about Gaara. Who wasn't?

The following pile of letters was akin to reading through a timeline of his father's temper, followed soon after by one of his mother's worry turning to indignation and then too to anger. Repeatedly they threatened to come visit or even to pull him out of school. His mother mentioned that she might as well have sent him to Durmstrang if he was going to ignore her owls anyway. His father had also apparently been in contact with the other pureblood families attending the school, and had clearly broken the nib of one of his priceless antique quills when he'd stabbed out his letter regarding Draco being accused by the other Slytherins as a blood-traitor and for allying himself with the moderates. If he looked closely, Draco thought he could tell where in the letter his father had stopped writing to abuse the new house elf before continuing. But all the while, despite the occasional furious blot, his penmanship was exemplary. They just didn't teach that at Hogwarts anymore... shame.

At one point, his mother had even said that even though the Dark Lord had never broken into Hogwarts, she might well do it herself if he didn't answer soon.

The last letter was even more troubling as his father and mother had turned to a cold rage in their joint message, as apparently that scary inspector he'd disrespected had told on him to his father. And with the inspection regarding Gaara having been so high-profile and unsuccessful, both now wanted answers regarding his roommate. Draco swore his parents had forgotten there was a mass murderer trying to get into Hogwarts and a flock of Dementors flying around the grounds. That wasn't to say he'd be reminding them, as that would almost certainly lead to his mother making good on her threat to have him transferred to another school.

He'd been reading these upsetting missives for over two hours, not to mention listening to the threatening howlers, and was already awfully tired, but Malfoy knew that he needed to write back soon. Dumbledore had been steadfastly blocking his parents' attempts at visiting Hogwarts for one reason or another, but Draco couldn't rely on his good luck to last for much longer, not when that meddling quack of a headmaster was at the helm. He'd write it now and then send it off first thing the next morning.

'_Dearest father and mother,_

_You have my most sincere and remorseful apologies for my discourteous silence these past weeks. Inexcusable that this lapse in judgement has been, I hope you will find it within yourselves to allow me to explain myself in spite of my trespass. _

_I will immediately assure you that I am otherwise well and unharmed, barring my distress as having you caused you so much anguish with my thoughtlessness. The reasons for not having replied in a proper and timely manner to your letters, inadequate though they may be, are due to my intense focus on the task I have taken upon myself. After you expressed your concern over my new roommate, I knew that leaving such a gap in our family's knowledge would be even more grievous and so I began to get closer to him and investigate him and his origins. _

_I have worked for the past month trying to gain his trust and his friendship in order to discern whether he is a fit ally for our noble family, having already established his utility in the form of his clear strength and intellectual prowess. _

_Of course, I was able to earn his trust swiftly; and I have discovered that Gaara is a refugee from a faraway desert wizarding community, but that he is strictly a pureblood of the greatest degree, according the community's isolationist customs. He moved to Britain following a civil war within his tribe that left him as the sole survivor, albeit with his voice cursed beyond repair. His ways are indeed strange and he is not accustomed to using magic in the proper British manner, though I am glad to inform you he is learning. But, most importantly, he is strong. Just the other day, he was able to best Potter with ease in a duel using only his brute strengths, not needing to plot to ensure his victory. _

_With these strengths and his estrangement from our society, I have taken it upon myself to teach him the proper wizarding customs to rid him of his silly foreign ones, and in return he will suffice perfectly as a replacement for those cowardly Goyles and Crabbes who broke off our agreement of their own volition (without any input on my part). _

_On the subject of those ludicrous accusations of blood-treachery, I trust you will see past the envy of those foolish peers of mine towards my claiming Gaara as my ally, manifesting their families' envy for our great legacy that far surpasses any of theirs. My distancing from them is purely for the sake of strengthening my ties elsewhere, sure in the knowledge that they will undoubtedly regain their sense when I see fit to deign their presences around me again. The moderates within the great House of Slytherin and their families are an untapped political well of power that I will be the first to exploit among my year group, as I am sure you understand. _

_The inspector you mentioned did see fit to approach me during his visit, but I made no untoward move against him or toward the Ministry, as he has obviously implied. I simply re-established our standing ties with the Ministry but denied him any of my findings regarding Gaara, as it was not his place to try and ferret information from me when my first allegiance is to my family. I will leave it to your discretion, father, whether you see fit to share any of this with the Minister or keep it between us in order to maximise Gaara's usefulness to us._

_Now that my initial investigation is complete, I will be resuming my proper weekly reports undisturbed. I will leave you with my reiterated apologies. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Draco Abraxas Malfoy_

_P.s. I trust both you are both doing well in my absence despite my recent wayward behaviour.'_

Ninety-nine percent lies, but his parent probably wouldn't find that out for a while, and by then there will hopefully be something more important happening to distract them from killing him. He thought the history he'd invented for Gaara was quite good. He might have to tell Gaara about his tragic past if Draco's parents were ever to meet him. But then, it's not like Gaara would be quick to correct their assumption regarding him, worst came to worst, he'd just bat Gaara's sand out of their air before he accidentally told the truth.

He folded the parchment and cast the wax with his precious customised seal before placing it atop the pile of books he'd be carrying to his lessons the next day. While they weren't much good for conversation, Draco did miss his old henchmen and their reliable offers to carry his books for him. The blond wouldn't dare ask Gaara to do it.

He turned off the light as climbed under the covers, remarking silently to himself that even Gaara's sleep-deepened breathing was totally without sound also. The pale red-head was practically a ghost, though Draco could only wish for the ghosts to be as quiet as his roommate.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Draco talked sedately to Gaara as they got ready for classes that morning, holding his one-sided conversation so fully that he could almost have forgotten that he wasn't getting any replies. The only responses he might get were Gaara occasionally glancing up at him before continuing with his own preparations again. As dense as Draco could be around friends (perhaps narcissistic is closer), even he might have considered whether he was forcing Gaara to listen to his unending talking.

Without any answers or real responses, Gaara might well have been completely ignoring him the whole time, waiting to finish his own preparations before ditching his annoying roommate. Draco's neuroses didn't usually stretch to this kind of depressive rumination, but with Gaara, socialising wasn't a given, especially after nearly a month without any sustained human contact that Draco was aware of. But lo and behold, as Draco was finishing up packing his quill and ink into their case, Gaara stood there and waited for him! Gaara even followed the blond all the way up to the owlery so that the Malfoy could attach his letter to his somewhat neglected eagle-owl.

It was lunchtime that same day that Draco received his reply. The owls were only supposed to come in the mornings and the students could then trek up to the owl tower if they were expecting anything in the evenings, but Draco, being the scion of the most respectable pureblood family in Hogwarts, was exempt from such paltry rules as far as he could see. There was also the fact that both McGonagall and Dumbledore hadn't been in the Great Hall at the time, and Lucius really did believe his letter was of such dire importance that the lesser rules of the great wizarding institution shouldn't hamper him, and so he had told Draco's ill-tempered owl to go straight to Draco and not wait around on its perch all day long.

A few heads turned when the single owl swooped into the hall and dropped the letter into Draco's lap, with expert accuracy, before banking around and flapping back out of the same window, not having landed once. Even Snape gave Draco a withering stare at the blatancy of his flaunting the rules and Draco had the good sense to sweep up his message and exit the Great Hall looking as if he had just received an order from the Minister himself, not from his parents telling him off for not telling them he was okay for a couple of weeks.

Not for the first time, Draco wished he was in Potter's situation, never needing to negotiate these difficult family relationships. Of course, these feelings were strictly fleeting and would never ever be voiced. Plus he had added benefits, like parents and endless monetary resources...

And he didn't have to wear glasses.

As Gaara followed Draco back to their room, apparently having nothing better to do during his lunch break than to spend some 'quality time' with Draco, the taller of the two looked to Gaara and wondered what his father was like.

Draco, along with a few others that witnessed Gaara's encounter with the boggart, gave serious consideration to the woman that Gaara had impaled being his own mother. Of course that raised many more questions, but Draco could swear he'd seen Gaara's face in the woman's. But, seriously worrying mother-son relations aside, it also raised the question of Gaara's dad. What sort of man was he? Was he around when Gaara was growing up?

Gaara was first and foremost a mystery, but the Potter-proclaimed-'ponce' wouldn't be so intrusive as to question Gaara about his family. Not after his roommate, hours after spearing the woman's visage, returned to their room even quieter than the mute boy was given to being and sporting red raw eyes. No one saw Gaara cry that night, but one person had had to pretend he didn't know that it had happened.

They reached their room with half an hour before their next class began so Gaara moved over to read, standing up. Gaara's ability to stand still for long periods of time was just one more reason why he was a singularly unsettling person. Especially since Draco knew how heavy that 'gourd' was and that Gaara didn't always use his ability to lighten the load.

While Gaara read from one the countless books he had borrowed from the library since arriving, having finished all of the required reading materials that had been purchased for him in Diagon Alley, Draco sat back down at his desk and opened his missive. It was comprised of two separate letters:

'_Dearest Draco, _

_I was very reassured to receive your letter this morning, and to that end I will shortly forward it to your father at work so that he may share in my relief. I am pleased that you are thriving, and your friend Gaara sounds lovely. We will have to have him around so that you can introduce him to the family. _

_I cannot immediately speak for your father, but your slack communication was a thoroughly heartless move and I trust you understand the pains it has put us through. Nonetheless, as you seem to have been anything but idle in that time, I will not pursue any punishment for when you return for the winter holidays, but I cannot say for sure whether or not your father will feel the same way. _

_You will resume your regular letters from now on, otherwise Albus Dumbledore will not stop me from personally marching into Hogwarts and removing you by force. It is not unprecedented for Malfoys to be homeschooled and I will not have you disappear from your family like my 'notorious' wayward cousin did. _

_Be cautious of the dementors and I will hear from you again soon._

_Love,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_'

'_Dear Draco, _

_As your mother has stated, your lack of decorum is reprehensible in and of itself, not to mention the worry it has inflicted on us, but I will allow you to forgo punishment in this matter in reward for your diligence in pursuing our family interests. This Gaara is a promising ally and you acted astutely in reserving your finding for my ears before divulging them to the Ministry. _

_Your mother has suggested to me that Gaara join us for the winter holidays, provided he doesn't have any other engagements, so that we may take his measure personally and further introduce him into our family's circles. You are to extend our invitation at your earliest convenience and forward his answer quickly. You have found a precious tool in your work, as no other families are working to curry his favour. I was astounded by your progress after hearing from multiple outside sources that he did indeed best the Potter boy in a duel with ease. Such a feat is nothing to be scoffed at._

_I will continue to make my own private enquiries regarding what you've told me, so that I may solidify our new ally's place in our society. There are several groups looking into this child's past and not all of them have his best interests at heart as we do._

_Continue with this work, and do not let your grades slip below those befitting someone of your standing. Also be on the lookout for Sirius Black as no matter what affiliations he may have had, they were beyond top secret to everyone and he is likely to be a dangerous lunatic after being in Azkaban for so long._

_Yours sincerely, your father,_

_Lucius Brutus Malfoy, _

_(Head of the Pure and Powerful House of Malfoy)_'

Draco would have to think on having Gaara stay with his family. It was a daunting prospect for both of the teenagers, especially with how uncooperative Gaara could be when he wanted to. But then, it actually saddened the manipulative teen to think of Gaara spending the Christmas break all alone in the freezing cold castle when most of the Slytherins would be gone... well, the stoic transfer student might actually prefer the peace and quiet, but Draco couldn't possibly imagine that it was healthy for someone like Gaara to go so long so frequently without any social interactions. He'd end up killing someone, surely.

Frankly, that Gaara hadn't killed anyone by now was the really weird part.

He looked at their clock and reviewed his next class' assigned chapter, knowing that the old salt McGonagall wouldn't let him slip by if he hadn't memorised the chapter be the time he went in there. All because he'd transfigured Weasley's chair into a giant, orange coloured, wooden rat.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next day was a much anticipated lesson for many of the Slytherins and Gryffindors, as never had anyone seen Snape so angry as when he'd announced that Gaara was to be readmitted to his classroom. And then there were the numerous hilarious accidents Gaara had incited, although those were more appreciated by the Gryffindors because of their senses of humour and because they didn't have to sit next to the disaster waiting to happen.

Before Snape had opened his door to allow them entrance, the long line of students conversed quietly about Gaara and his latest escapade into the lake. Ron was the focus of the conversations as he swore that his brothers hadn't had anything to do with it, or so they vehemently had protested. Many pointed fingers at countless potential pranksters, but no one suspected that Draco, talking to one of his moderate-friends, was really the mastermind, except perhaps Severus who knew better than to involve himself in Hogwarts' age-old tradition of pranks. He had scars from previous pranks he'd been involved in, and not all from the Whomping Willow or the Marauders.

One thing that many in the discussions agreed upon was that with no one having been killed or even attacked in retaliation, somehow Gaara had forgiven the perpetrator. Either that or he didn't know who did it, but very few within these conspiracy circles were rational enough to consider that was Gaara human enough not to instinctively know who had wronged him.

As a result of this passivity on the Jinchūriki's part, Gaara-fear was at a low within the school, though that obviously wasn't going to last long.

The door to the Potions room eerily opened on its own, Snape having apparently used his magic to freak out the front of the queue a little before he got his sadistic fix for the day. Everyone filed into the darkened laboratory, with Gaara bringing up the rear, having resigned himself to isolation for the lesson. Not all of Gaara's accidents were malicious attempts at Snape's life (and that was him being modest), so he thought it best not to work too close to his friend and roommate. Instead he sat himself down behind the Golden Trio and the rest of the Gryffindors, not quite appreciating that in this world, beating up a person wasn't forgiven in a couple of days. Gaara wouldn't have believed Draco if he'd told him that such non-existent injuries could be the cause of a longstanding hatred even when the losing party had started the fight.

Harry just seethed at the next desk in front whilst Hermione tried to calm him and Ron down before the two hardheads sprung backwards and tried to double-team Gaara.

In regards to the lesson itself and the work handed out, Gaara did exceptionally well considering his track record. As it turned out, his independent learning despite the lack of practical experience had allowed Gaara to excel in the short time he was away from the Potions classes. He was almost to an acceptable level by most standards, barring his actual potions making skills which were still comparable to Longbottom's, but even that was still a great improvement. The burn-removal potion he was brewing didn't harm anything or anyone and caused almost no damage to the classroom, except a little staining to the stonework under Gaara's desk. It was a personal best for the inept novice magician, even if it wouldn't help anyone with burns and might in fact cause burns when applied topically.

However, in spite of Gaara having almost reached the level of Failing rather than Burgeoning Terrorist, it made no difference in Snape's eyes. Further to that, he saw Gaara's improvement in his absence as a personal insult to his teaching skills, as if he took such _pride_ in teaching Potions. With this in mind, he spent most of the lesson sniping at Gaara and calling him on any error he spotted with his eagle eyes, and some that he didn't spot.

After the potions around the room had been bottled, except the failures from Longbottom, Crabbe & Goyle, and Gaara, as the students were writing up their work, Severus walked around the classroom until he was at the back of the lab, right behind where the most detested red-head in Hogwarts was sat writing. That Gaara didn't tense up or show any visible sign of acknowledging Snape's hate-filled presence behind him fuelled his prejudiced anger and he waited there, looking for any tangible excuse to release what he'd been wanting to say to Gaara since he'd been forced to readmit him to his classroom.

The excuse that was given in the official report sometime later in Albus' office, after the relevant parties had been checked over by Madame Pomfrey was: cheating. Gaara had looked over to the other side of the room, where Draco and the rest of the Slytherins were, and Severus could only come to the conclusion that Gaara was trying to copy what his housemates had written, even if it wasn't a test and his targets were on the other side of the darkened room.

With every bit of acidity he could muster into his tone, Snape spoke evenly, "Is there no level of ineptitude that you are unable to sink into, you miserable excuse for a monster." It was the soft brutality of the words that caused even the spiteful Gryffindors in front of Gaara take pause and subtly turn their ears to the diatribe, except for Ron who was trying to find a clear route to the door from where he was sitting. He had the right idea.

"I do not know what prompted you to join this school, I can't help but blame myself for bringing you to the headmaster when I should have sent you in to the Ministry for them to lock you up. You have no place around these children because I know what you are and so does Professor Dumbledore. We can see it in your eyes, that darkness. Because we've seen it before in the murderers and monsters that we've met and fought, and _they_ _pale_ in comparison. That's how we all know what you are and what you are capable of."

Everyone in the room had given up the thin pretence of subtlety and had turned fully to watch the rampage at the back of the room that was giving any other rant from Snape a good run for its money in terms of sheer spite. Draco, who had never considered getting in the way of one of his Head of House's attacks before, was beginning to as he watched Gaara's eyes widen and his brows crease. Gaara was a strong person, and he didn't seem all that emotional, but his armour had chinks in it and Snape was jabbing his knife in all the right places, if Draco was right.

"Didn't you think it was odd that everyone in this school is afraid of you? Of course not, you knew it would happen because that's where you came from. Some wonder what happened to you before you got here, but I think it's obvious: they were trying to rid the world of an abomination! But they just sent you to us instead."

Through this uncharacteristically brutal verbal attack, from the already acerbic man, Gaara had become perfectly still, holding the same understated look of pain on his face that very few would recognise as he received these words. It was only when Snape had brought up his home that Gaara had finally turned his head to look upon Snape in the corner of his eye.

Almost as if reacting to seeing Gaara's face, the snarl on Snape's own face became feral and his eyes lit up with rage unsuppressed for the first time in years. Nothing would stop Serverus' wrath this time, not one of his preferred students, Draco, jumping up and calling out for him to stop, nor the students standing from their chairs and backing away from the scene he was making. Nothing would stop him from expressing his anger, well... one thing did when he reached the climax of his uncommonly cruel and excessively personal denigration.

"I can't imagine how your family would cope with a cruel imposter of a good human being. They were probably the ones that made you darken _my _doorstep. Is that why you attacked that Boggart?" Instantly Draco took a step forward and called out again urgently just as the rest of the shocked classroom compelled their professor to cease his vocal breakdown. "You killed it because you knew it would reveal the truth, that you are a monster and an outcast! Who was she, your mot-"

Snape was cut off by an inexplicable sense of dread that shivered down his entire body and sent him into a cold sweat before he could identify where this terror had emanated from. The momentum from shifting so quickly from rage to fear was dizzying, so it took the veteran wizard a few moments of his eyes darting about the room looking for whatever his senses had seen fit to warn him about so strongly before he came back to the red-haired, green-eyed boy he'd just been attacking. Those eyes that blurred when he looked directly at them, those eyes filled with all too familiar hatred rather than the pain they had been displaying guardedly before.

"What are you?" Snape moved back a few paces and snapped out his wand, meanwhile the rest of the class began to feel the same sense of unknown dread wash over them like a heavy tide, the malicious chakra and killing intent being expressed in these inexperienced children simply as a paralysing panic, a strong desire to run and hide but simultaneously an inability to move a muscle. The only exceptions were the only two who had experienced this exact sensation before, and both Crabbe and Goyle fled the room without any by-your-leave, not stopping until they almost bowled over Professor McGonagall. By the time they'd reached the door of the Potions lab, Draco could have sworn he saw tears in more than one eye, but his own eyes soon darted back to the tense standoff where Professor Snape was still pointing his wand at the seated Gaara, who still wasn't fully turned towards the instigator but was glaring back at him with as much loathing as Draco thought any person was capable of possessing.

Snape's mouth opened one more time, gaping rather than to continue his verbal volley, and that was when all hell broke loose, along with a demon, it would seem. Snape had been staring into Gaara's eyes the whole time and in the instant after his mouth dropped open, those hauntingly green eyes flickered into something _wrong_, something inhuman. And in that very same instant, a wind began to tear around Gaara and Snape fired off a stunner as fast as he could. It was forbidden for him to curse a student, but this wasn't a student, it was plain for anybody to see.

This initial attack prompted the cork of Gaara's gourd to explode and a shield of sand to race out and protect its master, deflecting the spell away harmlessly. Snape moved back even further, putting some distance between him and the 'boy' who, with the decrepit manner and speed of an inferi, had risen from his stool to face the instigator with eyes of a demon in intensity but not form, it would seem. The sand continued to flow until eventually the gourd itself crumbled and joined the rest forming fragments of a shell around Gaara.

"Call back your sand now, Gaara!" Snape was worried, sweat forming on his forehead as he felt just how enclosed his dungeons were, and with all of the children there he was very concerned. He had no idea how Gaara's powers would hold up against his own, but the monstrosity still staring unblinking at him had apparently made short order of Potter the other day and his own spell hadn't made so much as a dent in that defence.

Gaara gave no sign of abiding with his professor's demand so Snape allowed himself the briefest of peeks around at his students, from Draco to Potter and his friends before he called out for everyone to hear: "Run! Get out and don't stop! Class dismissed." It was dramatic, but Gaara wasn't even in whatever passed for a right mind, and Snape had made his severe doubts about Gaara's moral compass known to all so he truly believed the teenagers under his charge were in danger.

The students closest to the door, in the other corner of the laboratory, began to sprint out, fearing either their angry and insane Potions professor or their deranged and erupting peer would give chase.

The tense standoff, with Snape not sparing another glance around the room, between the staring foes went on for centuries as the students manoeuvred around the room to get to the exit without passing too close to either. Not soon enough, the only students left in the class were predictably the Golden Trio and Gaara's own compatriot, all four having decided to meddle in this affair as they were wont to do, only recently in one of their cases.

"What are you waiting for, get out, now!" Snape resharpened his focus and aim on Gaara's torso, readying to fire off a curse at a moment's notice.

"Gaara, what are you doing?! Calm down, it's alright." Draco was a few feet behind Gaara but had dared to come a lot closer than the others who had elected to wait nearer the front of the room as spectators for now.

The sand twitched and Snape sent an exploding curse at Gaara's body and conjured a thin stream of super-heated flames towards his head soon after. The barrier of sand lazily rose to intercept the first attack and was ready to catch the fire, shifting the sand around so that none of it could melt into glass like Snape had planned.

The room wasn't well ventilated so keeping up that fire might have been just as costly to him as to Gaara so he readied another series of exploding curses, but he had to sidestep the sand as it speared where he had just been standing. He severed it and fired off his own attack before ducking clumps of sand that instead impacted hard on the back wall.

"Gaara, stop, please. It's not worth it." Draco hadn't moved a step closer since the battle really began, he looked desperate, but whether that was for Gaara's of Snape's safety no one could be sure.

Snape cast his very own _Sectumsempra _repeatedly, slashing wildly at Gaara's sand, hoping to cause enough damage to the boy himself so that he'd be incapacitated quickly enough that Snape could counter it and stop it from killing him.

The invisible sword was able to keep Gaara's sand from advancing but he couldn't penetrate the stone barrier that was erected every time he attacked. Shifting his stance he transfigured a nearby desk into a large snake and had it approach Gaara but without even looking, Gaara sent his sand to crush it, not leaving enough of an opening that Severus' inbound stunning spells and crippling curses could pass through.

Ducking under a wide swipe, Snape summoned as much water as he could draw from the nearby taps and sent that as a malleable stream towards Gaara, intending to either surround the boy's head with it until he lost consciousness or else soak this loose sand until he could out manoeuvre it. He couldn't anticipate that Gaara had experience with this trick and had developed a defence against it, so Snape was dumbstruck when the shield that blocked the aquatic tentacle had deflected the water and allowed it slide off its smooth surface before breaking back up into grains of sand. Each time Snape tried to send water to attack Gaara, the shield would compact and harden to the degree that it was no longer porous.

Snape wasn't a young man any more, he had aged prematurely so he wasn't nearly nimble enough to compete with this sand on any kind of physical level, especially since the tiny space he had to work with was littered with debris and desks, and the longer he fought the more the sand circling Gaara spread out to surround him.

The veteran was getting to the point of desperation where he began to consider using his more powerful, darker and more dangerous spells and curses, on a different level than his favoured _Sectumsempra_. What stopped him, really, was the presence of those incorrigible students stood so close to this escalating battle. If things had continued as they were, Snape would have had to consider using one of the _Unforgivables_ to fight with. They carried immense risks but their power was the reason the Dark Lord had treasured them so.

Things, however, did not continue as they had, as through the door strode Albus Dumbledore with his wand drawn looking to be incredibly angry, compared to his famous granfatherly smile that twinkled around his beloved students. Gaara seemed to register this threat only after Dumbledore had sent off a nameless spell that froze the top layer of the sand shield and dusted Gaara's sand-covered hair in ice.

Even as Professor Dumbledore began to send off spells in rapid succession in tandem with Snape, once Gaara had shifted his stance to face both his opponents, he was still able to fend off all but a few attacks cast at him, and the paltry handful of hexes that made it past the shield only came to impact on Gaara's stony skin as if they too had been blocked.

The three passive spectators at the front of the room, who had never seen either professor duel seriously before, couldn't believe that they were earnest in their attempts to subdue Gaara, and in fact they weren't. As strong as Gaara was, they were each accomplished duelists and had the potential to rise to much greater strengths, but both were aware, on a deeper level, that Gaara was a student and they couldn't think of going all out on someone under their care.

They reached an impasse as the teachers could not force their student into submission without probably seriously harming him and the other students in the small room, and Gaara couldn't defeat his two opponents in his frenzied and wild state of mind, relying largely on instinct. As the battle lulled into a continuous attack and return between sides, Draco could stand still no longer. It was obvious Gaara would be the one to get hurt if things went further, so he slid forwards.

Seeing that Draco was making his move, Albus formed a wall of water to act as a barrier long enough to stop this fight. With the sand struggling to push through the surging shield of water, Albus walked over to Severus in order to calm down the adrenaline fuelled duellist on his side of the conflict whilst Draco took the unenviable task of undoing whatever rage the Potions master had driven the red-head into.

Moving closer to the action was perilous for anyone, but Draco hadn't even drawn his wand, he couldn't ward off Gaara's rebounding attacks after they had impacted on the wall of water and they hurtled towards him. Again and again he was knocked back, to the point where even his enemies behind him called out for him to give in, but he didn't.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy didn't give up when things got too hard, he persevered and pushed on until he reached the edge of Gaara's absolute defence. The floating fragments of the sandy egg shell seemed to hesitate as his pale hand reached out to the paler shoulder of his best friend.

A flinch that could only be felt and not seen passed up to Draco and he squeezed the robed shoulder and said, "Gaara, it's over, calm down."

Gaara barely spared him a glance before sending out a wave of fresh attacks, but as he continued to attack, his assaults on the water shield began to weaken him as minuscule traces of water seeped into the super-condescend sand.

The Jinchūriki's brows were still furrowed in silent pain and (perhaps) unshed tears. The attacks slowed, becoming almost petty and half-hearted from Gaara's now waning anger more than any affect the water was having. Eventually the sand stopped pounding on the so-far impenetrable wall altogether and flopped onto the soaking wet floor, to be followed immediately by the water from Albus' spell, once the wizened, battle-scarred wizard was sure the diminutive demon-host was finished.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had been able to persuade Snape to lower his wand, and what had previously been a basement brawl between pupil and teachers was now the awkward silence after a temporary truce has been reached.

Now that all was quiet and peaceful, Gaara lazily raised his hand, flat, and called together his soggy sand, as slowly as he could so as to not alert his one-time foes. The sand moved haltingly and struggled to lift into the air, dripping water all the while as it floated together into the shifting approximate form of a sphere and subsequently began to extricate the water it had absorbed. The process was so mesmerising that Draco almost forgot he was still holding onto Gaara's skinny shoulder, and wanted to let go but held on for a little longer. He wasn't one for physical affection, nor was he an affectionate person, and Gaara sure as hell wasn't either, but this contact had gone some way towards bringing his friend back from wherever he had gone in his anger so he would wait a little longer.

Eventually the sand had returned to a useable state and had reattached itself to Gaara's back. Gaara stared at his feet in shame, reflecting on losing control like he had and at striking out at civilians like... like a monster.

Harry, Ron and Hermione hadn't moved more than an inch between them so far, and even after the fighting died down they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. They weren't sure what to be more amazed by: Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, both reputed duelling masters and respected teachers in their fields, etc., engaging in a fierce battle with their enigmatic transferred peer; or that Draco Malfoy, the most cowardly snake in the entire school, had been the one to face up to the danger and put an end to the fighting by approaching his psychopathic roommate. They weren't just speechless, they were shell-shocked. And they were tired. The stress of the battle and the intangible killing intent that had assaulted all of them before had drained even the casual observers present.

Even after personally witnessing everything that had just happened, the three still couldn't believe that Draco had changed so much so rapidly under the watch of this new influence. It was eerie.

But apart from Draco, Gaara looked more damaged by all of this than anyone would usually have the right to be. It didn't seem to be about what Snape had said to set it all off, either. Gaara was looking ashamed of his actions, which the Trio could understand, but then they had been working under the assumption, at least since Harry's fight with him, that Gaara was some kind of violent crazy person just waiting for an excuse to start something. And with his ties to Slytherin and Malfoy, that had seemed like the most feasible possibility, but now they got a glimpse of something more; evidence that there was more to their odd new peer than fighting and Slytherin... though of course this isn't to say that any of them were any closer to liking him or even any further from disliking him, it was just the seed of a thought.

Primarily, Harry's thoughts were centred not on Gaara's newfound penitence like Hermione's were, but on the potential issues arising from Gaara's amazing strength and apparent lack of control. Sure, even Ron pitied the sad visage that was repentant-Gaara, but Harry had to focus on the danger that this boy posed to his friends and his school in an already dark year.

A part of Harry had honestly believed that with the escape of Sirius Black, his third year at Hogwarts might just be a little dangerous and troubling. Just a single problem for the teenager instead of the usual plethora that he'd come to closely associate with his true home at the school.

Instead he got an escaped mass-murdering convict hell-bent on killing him, dementors with a Boy-Who-Lived fetish, a weird not-prick Malfoy, and the creature formerly known as Gaara.

...He missed the basilisk...

Hermione, Harry and Ron were eased out of their individual trances by Professor Dumbledore who guided them firmly to the door and asked that they go rest for a little while and to please keep what they had just seen to themselves for the time being, even though everyone was sure to know about it by dinner that night anyway.

Once the Golden Trio had been sent to their dorms to tell all their friends about what they had just seen, Albus moved onto the next step of damage control and gave Snape the rest of the day off and sent him too off to his quarters to relax for a while, if Severus was capable of relaxing. He'd have the House Elves clean up the mess in the Potions lab. Asking whoever was sure to be on Snape's detention roster for that evening to clear the battle ground was beyond whatever sadistic bone lay dormant in the kind headmaster's body. He'd also have to have someone round up the straggling students who'd fled the Potions class just now. It wasn't beyond many of the students to use the panic caused to avoid going to their next classes.

"Gaara, I believe we need to have a talk in my office;" Dumbledore's eyes bore down on Gaara's fluffed red-head, taking charge now that the conflict had been resolved, before he turned slowly to look upon Draco who had since taken up position next to Gaara at a respectable distance, "Mr Malfoy, would you please join us, I'd like to hear your input as well." Draco understood that he was to come for emotional and psychological support for Gaara who was still in deep meditative thought, or was still contemplating the state of his shoes. In any case, the platinum-blond agreed it would be best if Gaara had a friend in what was yet to come. It didn't take genius to know that a meeting with the principal, after attacking that principal as well as a Potions teacher and destroying half a laboratory in the battle, would not be a pleasant meeting at all.

Albus left the dungeon first, without looking back for any further acquiescence, and Draco was about to follow when he noticed his friend had stirred from his trance, so he moved a little closer, though refrained from touching his friend again lest Gaara lose whatever tolerance he had for such contact and do something regrettable to the blond, and said the first thing that came to mind, as he had been doing a lot recently: "You aren't a monster, Gaara, and you're not a freak either."

Fortunately that seemed to break whatever spell Gaara had been in as the red-head finally broke eye-contact with his toes and looked up at Draco, watching steadily before nodding forwards, gesturing for Draco to lead on, though Draco liked to think somewhere in that vague gesture had been a recognition of his efforts for Gaara. Who knew with Gaara...?

When the two third-years exited the Potions lab, Dumbledore picked up the pace and began walking in earnest to his office, looking forward to a nice cup of tea when he arrived. It was at times like these, among increasing others, that he was harshly reminded of his age. Even the climb through the castle to his beloved chair was sure to wear him out, but Fawkes would soon stop answering his calls if he tried using him as an in-school apparition tool... again.

On the silent walk, the Headmaster began to consider what he was going to say and, more importantly, what he was going to do. He had been worried, maybe even afraid, of Gaara since he'd laid eyes on him in August, but he truly had not believed that something like today's incident would have occurred, or at least certainly not so soon.

Albus had dealt with more troubled students than... well, than un-troubled ones, sadly; but even his worst failures had never done something like this. Or, rather, none of them had put up such a good fight, and he couldn't fight the feeling that that hadn't been Gaara's full power; he hadn't even been using magic to fight, either.

He had to draw himself out of his head as his thoughts were becoming more and more disturbing, and he had to say the password to open the stairway to his office. Soon the three of them were comfortably sat in his office, all holding their cups of sweetened tea and occasionally taking sips, except for Gaara who was still staring blankly at something or other. Plus Gaara hated such sweet tea.

"Mister Malfoy, would you be so kind as to tell me exactly what happened in there?"

"Well, I don't know, I just didn't want Gaara to get into any more trouble or get hurt so I..." Dumbledore held up his hand with a smile, trying not to distress the witness before he continued.

"Could you tell me what started this all? I need to understand what set off this... outburst."

As Draco relayed how Professor Snape had been tormenting Gaara, worse than **usual**, and that had led to things being said, about which he refused to elaborate, that caused Gaara to get angry. Then the weird fear-wave spell thing and then Snape fired off the first hex and Gaara fought back. Albus had a few reservations believing some of this, and he definitely needed to know which straw it was that broke the camel's back, but he'd seen how outspoken Severus was about Gaara so it was possible that what Draco had said wasn't all too far from the truth. And besides that, Draco had always been a preferred student in Snape's eyes and wasn't likely to make up stories to get the Head of Slytherin in trouble without good reason.

"Do you have anything you'd like to add, Gaara, to what Draco has just said?" Both he and Draco stared at the brooding monsterling only to be disappointed when Gaara didn't look up to meet their gazes and continued to stare at his cooling tea and shook his head gradually, as if he was mulling over the question.

Dumbledore sighed, "Frankly, I am disappointed in you, Gaara. I know it must be somewhat confusing being thrust into a new school, especially one where you continually find yourself singled out because of the differences children often find reason to focus on, and Professor Snape's behaviour has been unprofessional in his dealings with you, but the way you reacted today was wrong. I allowed you into Hogwarts so that you may move on from your past and make a future for yourself, but with your recent fight with Mister Potter and now with Professor Snape, I fear for the safety of the other students if things continue on as they have.

"In light of your conduct, but taking into account the provocations and instigations from others, you'll be serving two weeks of detentions, which will be with Professor Lupin, but more importantly, I have to ask that you no longer carry your sand with you, except for a small amount so that you can communicate as you have been." By now, Draco looked a little shocked by the leniency and Gaara had finally deigned to raise his head to look at his judge.

Dumbledore bore his hardened eyes into Gaara's, needing to gauge the reaction he'd receive. The headmaster had considered something more drastic than confiscation, like a runic sealing to put a stop to Gaara's unusual free manipulation of the sand, but he could never get Gaara to agree to something like that and it just wasn't in Albus to force a student into such a drastic measure, even after all that had happened now and all that had come to pass in his tenure.

The sand rose and spread into the increasingly legible sandwriting, 'I will leave if I am disallowed from carrying sand.'

Draco's face far outdid Dumbledore's, with his shock letting his jaw actually hang and his eyes widen to comical proportions. He'd expected a harsh punishment, and had been relieved that the headmaster had decided to be so uncommonly lenient with Gaara, but now his closest (and first real) friend was threatening to leave the school, an act that Draco had never ever contemplated before. For the first time he wasn't always afraid, and now the one that had helped him reach this state might be forced out into a country that he was totally alone in.

Draco immediately jumped to his feet in defence of his friend's continued education and boarding at the school, "Headmaster, you can't be serious! Gaara protected himself both times, so without his sand he'd have been hurt much worse." Gaara seemed to have reverted to his usual unflappable demeanour as his invisi-brow didn't even twitch towards a rise after yet another emotional outburst from Draco.

Gaara was surprised the blonde's floodgates hadn't opened yet. Who would've thought, under all that pomp, snobbery and bigotry was an emotionally vulnerable boy? Gaara wouldn't be surprised to find his roommate whimpering in the first-floor girls' bathroom one of these days.

"I understand that, Draco, but Gaara's sand is simply too dangerous should he lose control again."

"And you'll let him leave the school with nowhere to go if he won't give it up, sir?" Draco had almost forgot he was openly arguing with the wizard revered as being on par with the Dark Lord, not that that fact tempered his defiance any.

Dumbledore wanted to see some open remorse or some input from Gaara, but he gained no reaction from humouring Draco's desperate protestations. Truly, Albus had hoped that Gaara would show some kind of sign that he was bluffing, that he was afraid to go through with this threat, but Gaara had no such reservations. He was deadly serious about leaving Hogwarts if he was called to give up his personal sand. If anything, leaving might allow him to move around in the Wizarding world more freely so that he could explore some less travelled paths of research to go home. Gaara had no intention of fighting to stay, if his hand was forced, but that didn't mean he was blind to the difficulties that expulsion would surely bring about.

The office had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, for non-battle-hardened Draco at the very least, and each of the three took turns staring at one another before then switching on to a new target. Eventually, Albus closed his eyes deeply and sat up a little straighter to address both the precocious teenagers. He wasn't quite as imposing in stature or presence as he once was, but Albus was greatly aided by the fact that both Draco and, even more so, Gaara, were exceptionally short for their ages and allowed him to tower over them even at his considerable age.

"Well, I can't very well be seen to expel such a promising young student because of my own inflexibility, so I will allow you to continue carrying your sand for now, Gaara, on the condition that in future you remain calm when someone tries to provoke you. There _cannot_ be a repeat of today's incident."

How pathetic, a child had called _his_ bluff and he had caved. Dumbledore wasn't about to let Gaara run off into the world, it would defeat the entire reason he had invited the boy to attend Hogwarts in the first place. He would have to believe in the Malfoy heir's ability to calm Gaara's calamitous wrath, as well as his own ministrations to keep Gaara away from anything that might cause persistent agitation. No need to stir the hornets' nest again.

Gaara didn't show it, but he was a little relieved. Having to leave would have been troublesome, with finding a place to stay and means to indefinitely sustain himself as well as maintain connection with the wizarding world in order to continue his search. And leaving Draco would... be a shame? Something along those lines. His relief was cut short with a ice-bath of cold sweat when the headmaster added that all of his detentions, which would be with Remus, would be from now on every night except for the night of the thirtieth. Draco didn't see anything wrong with this 'prior engagement', but Gaara had marked down that date already as the night of the full-moon!

No one should know about his transformation, not even Lupin or Sirius, so why then was he being allowed off for that one night. Looking into the old man's eyes yielded nothing but joviality at giving such a lenient and sparing punishment to Gaara and giving him the night off instead of giving him over to Minerva or one of the other willing senior staff.

"I also want to award twenty points to Slytherin, for your steadfast courage and dedication to your friend, Draco. Hopefully it might go some ways towards counterbalancing what I am sure is a considerable number of house-points that Professor Snape has undoubtedly removed by now." Trust Severus to finally remove points from his own house only when he has an axe to grind with one of the students.

"Thank you, headmaster." Secretly, Draco was more than a little embarrassed at receiving house-points for 'courage' of all things. He wouldn't be able to hold his head up around his peers if this got out. He was already on thin ice in Slytherin. And Potter and his cronies would have a field day if they found it he had one of the infantile Gryffindor characteristics. Thank goodness that the awarding of house-points wasn't publicised at all. He'd just tell everyone that it was for his cunning and ambitious... something or other along those lines, he'd work out the details later on.

"Now that we've dealt with this unpleasantness, I wonder if I might ask you two about something that's been nagging at me the past couple of days. Would either or you be able to tell me what happened two days ago, as I happened to see someone that looked remarkably like Gaara here being flown out to the Black Lake on a magic carpet. I needn't remind either of you that such an enchanted carpet is illegal, but perhaps you could tell me what happened."

Draco looked very unsettled for a few beats whilst he searched Dumbledore's expression for any kind of anger or reproach, but seeing only mirth he swallowed his fear and smiled a little, "Well, sir, it started with a boy, let's call him Kaara for now, accidentally almost killed his roommate , Braco, through sheer thoughtlessness. They didn't speak for a while, but eventually Braco decided that he could even the status quo by evening the score and pranking Kaara. Long story short, an illegally smuggled carpet and an open window along with a well placed sticking charm solved their problem. All has been forgiven and forgotten. I'm afraid, though, sir, that I can't tell you the real names of the two involved."

Despite the laughter that Draco shared with the head teacher over his largely harmless crime, Draco did allow his eye to check whether 'Kaara' had appreciated this retelling as much as the whimsical headmaster. He began to sweat when he didn't see any reaction from his roommate, and he dearly hoped that he hadn't just inadvertently fired off the opening salvo in another conflict.

Even Albus Dumbledore, having lived through many wars, practiced and taught miracle-making for decades and had born witness to countless awe-inspiring sights, was as surprised as the fresh-faced teenager opposite him when Gaara's mouth, that had so long been set in a perfectly straight line, curved upwards slow as can be and then... and then opened and laughed!

And the minute shaking of Gaara's shoulders and his eyes closing in gaiety was a sight to behold, coupled with the quiet, rapid wheezing that might have been raucous laughter but for lack of those pesky vocal chords. Going from homicidally angry to totally shame-faced and now to being giddier than anyone in that world had even seen Gaara, it was a vision indeed. The red-head only stopped because he noticed that the other two in the office had ceased their talking and were just staring open-mouthed at him. As if they've never seen a serial killer laugh before.

"Well, yes, I'm glad that all of those troubles are over with now. I think, in future, _Kaara_ should bear in mind our school's pertinent motto: 'Draco_ Domiens Nunquam Titlandus_', you never know what you might awaken." Draco tittered at the Latin joke, but Gaara's otherworldly linguistic luck apparently didn't extend that far or he'd expended all of his laughter for the year. "Now, I think I've held you long enough. I don't want mean to spoil the mood now that it's back to a proper Hogwarts standard, but nor do I want to mislead you as to the seriousness of what has transpired today. This will not happen again; is that clear, Gaara?"

Gaara nodded to that question in an eerily similar fashion as he had to his father's same orders just a few years ago. 'Don't kill the villagers, Gaara.', 'Stop murdering my shinobi, Gaara.', 'Stop dripping blood all over the floor, Gaara.' It was like white noise by now.

"We're sorry for the trouble, headmaster."

"I'm sure Gaara feels the same. Have a nice day, Draco, Lily." Dumbledore's cup of tea paused on its way to his mouth the moment he realised his tongue had slipped unforgivably. He swiftly continued on his sip and tried not at look either of the boys in the eye as they both stopped in their tracks. The glare sent his way from the red-head was pretty justified but he just continued to pretend to be intently fascinated by his work until this threat passed.

Draco looked back at the headmaster he'd just been leaving to his work, wondering whether he had actually just heard the old man call Gaara something along the lines of 'Lily', but convinced himself he must have been hearing things when his roommate continued onwards at a typically inhuman pace out of the ornate office. Draco spared another look towards the headmaster working hard and a glance at the phoenix he'd heard of, perched and preening itself happily.

Draco chuckled to himself as he descended the perilously steep stone staircase behind Gaara, finding the idea of anyone calling Gaara a girl's name silly. Gaara would be homicidal, for sure. Besides that, what possible reason would there be for it. Maybe one of the loud noises from the assuredly-legendary-by-now battle earlier had damaged his ears. He'd go talk to that incompetent medi-witch tomorrow about whatever had been done to him. If she valued her job, she wouldn't dismiss his injuries again, forcing him to contact his father for outside medical attention.

Potter may have broken his wrist or vanished the bone like an idiot last year, but he'd come off his broom in that match and Pomfrey had had the nerve to tell him was fine after a single diagnostic spell. There wasn't anything really wrong with him beyond a few bruises, but how could she have possibly known that for sure?

A few hours later, after classes had finished for the day and the bravest Slytherins, amounting to three or four, had finished mining their resident Gaara-expert for details on the newest hot topic around the school, Marcus Flint approached the quietly studying pair sat on the sofa with his trademark scowl being marred by the presence of his horribly protruding buck teeth poking out.

Flint, who, in addition to being the Quidditch captain since he joined the House team after a tragic hexing accident with the previous captain, also happened to be Slytherin's current head boy, was often loathe to perform his duties. There was a very minor scandal that arose when Flint was appointed as head boy because it was suspected by some of the other senior staff members that Snape had not taken a lengthy look at his students and chosen the most appropriate, but had in fact instead just picked the only student whose name he'd already memorised from being the Quidditch captain.

"Gaara, you don't go to Potions anymore, and stay at least twenty feet away from Professor Snape at all times, understand?" Gaara nodded and went back to his book, and Flint offered his minimal greetings to Draco as he stalked back to whatever hole he had crawled out of, to finish his own homework.

The next day, Gaara spent the time that was supposed to be allotted to him and his year group for Potions class instead performing some extracurricular, but no less pertinent, research. He'd only gone to a single Potions class in the whole of this month anyway, so the timetable change was more rectified for him than disturbed, but for some reason the regularity with which the young student spent his time in the library during teaching hours didn't deter the resident paper-weight/librarian from questioning him every time he walked in. He'd sneak in, but that sent his mind spiralling down to that one story he'd been told about a certain **someone** who used to sneak into the library to rearrange the books and make loud noises. Gaara's pride was under constant threat in this world and he wasn't about to forfeit a major part of it by using his training to avoid a snooty librarian.

That being said, he didn't have the same compunctions about darting into the Restricted Section of the library to access the infinitely more advanced and interesting materials that he was bafflingly barred from reading. But he'd never let silly things like rules and laws stop him in his native world and he certainly wasn't about to now.

He spent this particular hour searching for works on the demons of this world and any dark teleportation magics, but once again after the better part of an hour he found almost nothing at all. There were a few dark spells for transportation, but none of them were what he was looking for, unless he wanted sacrifice ten virgins to reduce the disorientation from _Apparition_ (he'd later admit that he had briefly considered tapping into the unused resource of first years to forgo that unpleasant experience again). As for information on demons, that was harder to pin down in such a limited time period as it seemed there was an extraordinary amount of fiction and religious material related to them, but nothing concrete or credible. And those demons were very different from the kind he knew all too well.

Maybe demons, like shinobi, didn't exist in this world.

His frustrated reading only lasted the first of his two free hours before he dumped his books onto the nearest trolley and decided to go and see his surrogate pet out in the forest. Fluffy, of course, was ecstatic to see him and happily let the small red-haired boy sit atop his aptly named fluffy tummy, where Gaara then started on reading an interesting book on abnormal wizarding diseases. Medicine, in any form, wasn't a particular passion of his, but Gaara was interested enough by the peculiarity of these illnesses that he didn't mind. He'd already read all of the materials from the first, second and this year's curriculum so he needed a break from the standard books he had been and would have been assigned if he'd been present.

Gaara figured he'd finish all seven years worth of material by the end of the teaching year. He'd heard it was quite common practice in Ravenclaw to do so by third year and Hermione Granger was also on track to do so. Bookish though he may be called, especially by his layabout roommate, he didn't regret going back and reading over the previous two years that he had missed. It helped enormously with his theory work, but sadly it had little effect on his spell-casting. It seemed _that_ problem was just something he'd have to learn to deal with in time.

His reading was disturbed only when the massive dog rolled over onto his side and sent Gaara at least six feet before a pretty soft landing on his sand. The dog had the cheek to look over at him whilst lying on its shared back, tongue lolling out, and to wag its tail and shake its body as if expecting a belly rub.

It was only because Gaara had been in a good mood the last few days (other than his little tantrum yesterday) that he did give the soft, fluffy stomach a little scratch until he had to return to the castle. Damn beast was incorrigible.

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The supplementary lessons that Gaara had been attending had to be cancelled as the administering tutor had another commitment imposed upon him, which was just as well since Gaara's detentions meant that he couldn't attend the tutorials with Lupin anyway, as he had to go to detention with Professor Lupin.

It was held in the same room and it was largely the same atmosphere, as Remus helped him to improve his practical magic and he tried not to blow up furniture or his professor any time he heard that bloody **nickname**!

While initially admonishing Gaara for his rampage that had lead to their time together being reclassified, he did understand how hard it could be sometimes to abide by people who repeatedly tried one's patience (Sirius came to both of their minds).

Soon Lupin's manner had been swapped for concern over Gaara's wellbeing as he had fought off not one but two infamously strong wizards and no matter how strong a third-year he might be or how easy the two teachers might have been going on the child, it would be highly irregular if Gaara had come out of the fight totally undamaged. But Gaara insisted that a trip to see Madam Pomfrey would be a needless inconvenience and that he was plainly fine to see, which Lupin had to admit seemed to be the case. In fact, Gaara appeared to be in a much better mood than he had been in weeks, which Lupin secretly attributed to boy's recent reconciliation with the Malfoy boy.

Each of their lessons together over the nights that had been mandated as their 'detentions' went as slowly as before, with Gaara making no miraculous leaps forward in his magical abilities.

It was on one of the last nights before the full moon that the two of them got to 'talking' somewhat more frankly than Gaara was oft to do. Lupin had been talking about his past exploits like he liked to do, reliving happier days, when he came to the subject of his childhood experiences away from the Marauders and Hogwarts.

Now, Lupin wasn't going to tell Gaara about his lycanthropy but he believed he could talk around it without giving too much away.

Truly, telling Gaara about the wolf inside scared Lupin more than perhaps was usual for him in revealing the truth to someone, and it wasn't simply because Gaara was a friend. It was because Gaara would almost certainly not react normally. The boy, wherever he had come from, didn't share the same prejudices and understandings of wizarding culture and so he might not fear a werewolf because he had never been taught to. What scared Lupin out of telling his newest friend about the beast was the possibility that Gaara would have a basal fear towards the wolf, that he might hate and flee from Lupin for what he actually was rather than through ignorance. That sort of rejection was so much worse in his mind, to be seen as the monster he sometimes was.

Remus talked about how he had been hurt terribly as a child and how he had not been able to see or talk to anyone his own age, and how he had almost not been allowed to go to school because of certain prejudices and concerns but how Dumbledore had helped him. He tried to focus as much on how he had felt as a child, alone, to avoid the glaring holes in his story that should have comprised the greater chunk in his cathartic tale of woe.

Gaara clearly listened but his stoic face never betrayed a reaction. Typical.

'I was alone as a child as well.' Lupin hadn't seen the sand sift through the air until it solidified into the sentence above Gaara. 'My mother died in childbirth and I was a weapon and a curse to my father, nothing more.' 'Over the course of my life, there have been many attempts on my life, all from the people from my village.' 'I deserved them.' The older man wanted to butt in here and ardently deny that damning self-assertion but the conviction on Gaara's face wasn't the angst ridden damage of low self-esteem but the dark chiselled regrets of a lifetime of mistake engraved onto a person's soul. He'd seen a lot of faces like this but never on a child.

Gaara looked up at Lupin for a long moment, which the man mistakenly believed was an invitation for comfort or a pause in communication so as to not overwhelm himself and come to tears. Gaara was measuring the man before him, considering whether or not he was as trustworthy as Gaara wanted to believe his friends in this world were. They could betray him and cause him so much trouble and damage, but would they? They could profit from that, maybe even get Sirius off the hook by having him 'out' the monster from another world.

'Where I'm from', Gaara held up one last moment as he intently watched Lupin's face as it peered upwards at the words, and waited to see some sort of anticipation, a look of ambition or relief, but all he got was that confusing patience. '-is another world.' His first ever friend _had_ told him he needed to trust in people to create real bonds. Perhaps he could get some help.

"Wait, what? What do you mean by 'another world', Gaara?" Lupin had done a double take after seeing those words. Things flashed through the man's head, maybe a different culture far removed from his own, or maybe the muggle world? But he kept coming back to just how strange Gaara was and how Sirius had described his first appearance, as falling from a great height but from no obvious means, covered in the most horrible cuts and slashes and very disorientated.

Gaara went on to tell Lupin just a little about his home world, about Sunagakure, the Five Great Shinobi Nations and the common existence of shinobi and some of their roles. He spared Lupin some of the more exact details and tried to downplay the murdering side of shinobi life a little, but for the most part he painted a pretty vivid picture of life in the Elemental Nations.

It was Gaara's underestimation of the effect that telling his own biographical experience of his home world would have on his friend that led to him tilting his head when Lupin began to tear up, as if Gaara had just told him some tragic story. He'd totally left out the later years of his life including the war-time preparations, his father's death and the demon that resided within him; but then he'd also skipped over his redemption and finding some measure of happiness that had been almost entirely absent from his beginnings.

"All this time, Gaara, I've suspected that you were different, but now it all makes so much sense. You've been stuck here alone all this time with nobody to talk to about it, I'm sorry I didn't see the truth earlier." Lupin put his hand on Gaara's shoulder, further confusing the borderline-sociopath further still, "From now on, I will do anything I can to help you, and I know for certain that Sirius would do the same."

Lupin continued to look the at the off-worlder with a smile, as if Gaara somehow now made total sense to him, and then frowned in consideration, "Gaara, I need to ask this, but do you want to return to where you came from? I would do whatever I could to help you stay here and once Sirius is cleared he would be more than happy to support you." The thought of sending Gaara back to a world where a child could be considered a warrior and that had produced a child, no matter how sweet, as damaged as Gaara, was repugnant to the emotional Marauder. A small part of him really hoped that Gaara would want to stay, in the short time he'd know Gaara it had been like back in his school days again for the first time in over a decade, with Sirius back in his life too and being back in Hogwarts.

'It is my home and I have precious people waiting for me there that I have to protect.' 'I can't let them down. I need to return.'

Lupin tried not to look too disappointed, "Then I will do whatever I can to help you, Lily." ... "Ehehe... And do you want Sirius to know about this or would you rather this stay between us for now?"

Gaara stopped glaring long enough to write out 'Tell him.' The Suna citizen couldn't imagine that Sirius would act any worse than Remus had, especially when considering Sirius' own history of betrayal. It was something of a weight off of his chest now that someone in this world knew that he wasn't a native inhabitant.

Seeing as Gaara had gone quiet again (figuratively speaking) Lupin said "It's going to be alright, Gaara." And he leaned forward and hugged the small thirteen year-old, forgetting he was dealing with Gaara and not any other thirteen year-old that had been put through such trauma. Gaara stayed perfectly still and as stiff as board under the firm and kind hold before Lupin released him with a tearful smile on his face, as if to say 'We've been through a lot together this evening but we'll be okay.'

Gaara's frown said 'Sand auto-defence reactivating in 3...2...'

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Later that same night, after Gaara had had all of the emotional out-pouring he could take, he had left Lupin to do whatever it is that teachers do at night when they're finally up-to-date on all of their work, lesson plans and marking.

This night, Lupin decided that in spite of the worsening lycanthropy pains he needed to speak to Sirius in person, a task that had been made more difficult by the increase in the dementor presence around the castle at night.

This was one of the many reasons that the werewolf was suspicious of just how much Dumbledore was aware of, as the headmaster clearly knew about the hidden passageway under the Whomping Willow and yet he hadn't requested that any dementors be posted outside the entrance to it. It wasn't as if he actually used that passageway during his monthly issues anymore. The Wolfsbane Potion was the best thing to happen to him in his twenties by far. The Forbidden Forrest was a very beautiful place when you were one of the scariest things in there. Though he didn't even want to know what that overwhelmingly doggish scent all of over the place was. It was like a gigantic Padfoot had decided to mark half the trees in the woods.

He found Sirius snoozing away in his dog form at the top of the rickety stairs, but with the seriousness to come, he had to forgo the traditional attempt to prank the sleeping marauder and just walk noisily up the stairs to wake up the shaggy dog. Sirius was startled at the intrusion but settled back down to an excited wagging when he saw who had come to visit. Lupin walked past the excitable dog-man and into the most comfortable remaining bedroom before falling into the softest patch of the weather-worn bed. The full-moon was always worst during the winter months and the build up was no different.

Sirius trotted in with his tongue hanging out, probably expecting something substantial to eat, which Lupin had forgotten to pick up before coming. It wasn't exactly a regular visit here, he needed to talk, not watch Sirius or Padfoot with his face shoved in some food and his ass in the air. Lupin had often wondered how James had managed to keep himself so human when both Sirius and Peter had become so animalistic even after they had transformed back. Probably something to do with the inherent dignity a stag walks around with compared to a mutt and a rat. That or self-control. Sirius had always acted like an animal anyway, once some of that patented Black conditioning had been stripped away.

After an awkward few moments it was clear that the dog would not be getting anything for dinner so he transformed back into his human form and began to shiver until he wrapped himself in one of the ragged blankets from the bed. The air was getting colder and turning into a fur-less human was becoming harder and harder. The cold air was something that Lupin, of all people, could sympathise with, considering all of the mornings he'd woken up in the middle of nowhere on a crisp winter's mornings to then have to search for his clothes. Cold weather was bad, cold weather naked was worse, cold weather naked with the accumulated aches and pains that surrounded the full-moon was an entirely different matter. Luckily he had found a good method of finding his way back to his clothes before the morning broke as, like with most things, the aches and chills apparently got worse with age.

"No food, Moony?" Talk about puppy-dog eyes; Sirius was a puppy that had never grown up.

"I'm sorry but it was already late and I didn't have time to stop by the kitchens on my way here. There's something you need to hear, it's about Gaara." Sirius was pouting, for God's sake! "I'll come back tomorrow with something for you to eat." As Remus said it, he couldn't stop the sigh that escaped with his breath. He hoped that Sirius wouldn't pick up on it. He didn't want Sirius to think that Remus considered his best friend a burden. After abandoning Sirius for over a decade, the least he could do was help him now.

"Oh God, Moony, the full moon, I didn't think. It should be sometime soon, right?"

"It's in a couple of days, but I'll manage. And I didn't come here to discuss my monthly cycle."

"You said it's about Gaara, he's okay, right?" Sirius snapped back to his seldom seen serious side as his normally carefree nature was swept aside by this newest of feelings, adult concern. A child at heart, Sirius wasn't used to having someone younger and more vulnerable (in his eyes) in his life and he hadn't expected to feel it until maybe the day that Harry moved in with him, after he'd adopted him.

"Yes, he's fine, although that depends on who you ask, I suppose." Lupin sighed again, exasperated this time at the level of drama the red-head ran into on a regular basis. From what he'd heard about Harry's previous two years, Gaara might give the Pronglset a run for his money on the peril and excitement score. "I'll start at the beginning. Thanks to that insane Minister for Magic, we were forced to play hosts to the head of his Administrative Inspectors..."

Lupin went on to describe the inspection, Dumbledore's equal insanity with his plan to move Gaara around, and then the fight between Gaara and Harry, which was something of a sore subject for the both of them, conflicts of interest and all. The flying carpet prank, from a Malfoy of all people, and then Gaara's fight with Snape. To say that Sirius was happy to hear that Gaara had not only got into a scrap with the snake-bat but had come out of it mostly unscathed, would be the grossest of understatements. From there he related Gaara's faux-punishment that led to that night's conversation.

The look on Sirius' face, when Remus revealed what Gaara had told him, would have been the ideal defence against any dementor as it was identical to the expression worn by convicts who'd just received the dementor's kiss. That blank soullessness didn't last long enough for a getaway though as immediately Sirius sprang back with a myriad of questions that Remus didn't have any answers to.

It was testament to Sirius' implicit trust in the boy he'd saved that he didn't doubt what he'd been told for a second and was instead more concerned with 1) whether Gaara wanted to go back and 2) how Sirius could help.

Remus had spent a fair amount of time with Gaara over the past few months, but Sirius' bond with the child was something that had been forged out of mutual hardship rather than from time in proximity.

They talked long into the night about Gaara being from another world, his difficult life and his status as a warrior 'shinobi'. Talk eventually moved onto the future, with Sirius' plans to find Pettigrew, to reunite with Harry, and also to help Gaara in any way he could.

Sitting by the window, Sirius looked up to the bright almost full moon and smiled. "You know, Remus, before I saw Gaara falling from the sky, I was sure I knew what I was going to do. I was going to see Harry, and then I was going to rip Peter to shreds, consequences be damned. All those years alone in Azkaban, and then hiding out in squalor, all I could think of was revenge. I hated it. You know what the worst part about it was?"

Remus shook his head.

"How selfish I felt. I was so angry, for what they did to James and Lily, to Harry's future, to everyone else as well, but in Azkaban, I could only think about how much I had suffered because I had lost my friends and my own future. It didn't change after I escaped from there, I just saw that article with that _rat_ in it and I was obsessed with getting here and killing him. I wanted to protect Harry from Peter also, but that wasn't anything more than something to help me sleep at night."

"Sirius, you don't have to-"

"They say that dementors suck out happiness, and have to kiss you to take your soul, but I swear I must have lost something in there, my mind or something else, because I couldn't think straight. It was my fault that James and Lily died, I told them to switch, and then I ignored Harry so that I could satisfy my own anger!"

"You know that wasn't your fault, you smelly idiot! Peter lied to all of us, the traitor could have as easily been me; how could you know? You did what you did, what you could, to protect them." Remus hated it when Sirius got so maudlin; it was so out of character. He could deal with funny Sirius, angry Sirius, pranking Sirius, but not quiet sad Sirius.

"I was doing it all again, Remus, and then Gaara arrived and I had someone to take care of, something to distract me from myself. For the first time in twelve years I had to think about someone else. I owe Gaara so much."

"If you feel that way, maybe next time _you_ can practice duelling with him."

Remus left a lot later than he would have liked, with the sure knowledge that by the next morning he would be willing to take Professor Binns as a substitute teacher for his early vlasses in order to rest. He was glad, however, that Sirius had been able to get some of this stuff off of his chest before it continued to fester. At least Sirius had stopped talking about storming the castle and dragging Peter out himself. He hoped that meant Padfoot had stopped thinking about it.

Sirius seemed more preoccupied with Gaara's fight with Severus than the fact that he had been transported there from another world. He kept asking for details and wanted to hear that Severus had been badly injured. The escapee had looked a little sullen when Lupin said that their old school punching bag hadn't even walked away with a limp, though with a stoic man like Snape, you never could tell what he was hiding.

The next morning, those in the know wondered whether Lupin was in fact a vampire rather than a werewolf, seeing as he wore sunglasses to breakfast, looked deathly pale and hissed when he inadvertently walked into direct sunlight.

That morning also saw a fresh blanket of snow on the vast Scottish lands around the castle, which caused Draco another drama in the form of an unusually childish and obstinate Gaara, who refused to get out of bed on the grounds that the castle was too cold and not freezing to death was a higher priority than learning.

Any attempt to physically remove the insane (but recovering) teenager from his bed was dangerous and futile, which Draco had figured when he had approached. Even Dumbledore would have been hard pressed to remove the demon-jailer from his warm snugly bed without relying on the Elder Wand that morning.

Draco only got Gaara to leave his bed, that was littered with books that that incredibly useful sand had fetched for him in preparation of a full day inside his fortress of comfort, when Draco warned Gaara that he would liable for a _real_ detention if he didn't turn up to class. He then went on to describe one of his own more harrowing detentions when he and Potter had had to patrol the Dark Forest in his first year at night. That hadn't seemed to affect the regular forest pedestrian, which made sense since Draco couldn't imagine there was anything that much scarier than Gaara in there, that is until Draco elaborated that that would mean that Gaara would have to walk around outside when the air was at its coldest.

Pretty soon Gaara was in the shower and into many layers of school uniform. He kept putting on clothes until he couldn't fit anymore on or ran out. Madame Pomfrey, who was eating her hearty and balanced breakfast in the Great Hall, thought that Gaara looked much more healthy that morning, barring the prominent scowl that looked angry compared to his trademark contempt-filled scowl. It looked as if he wasn't as painfully skinny as he'd always been, but then he was wearing most of the clothes he had in the world.

Gaara was angry because not only had he been dragged out into this world's version of Snow country, but he would later have to go and check on Fluffy out in the woods, seeing as he had somehow taken the beast on as his responsibility. The surest sign of recovery from total psychopathy was empathy towards animals, wasn't it? Since Shukaku was screaming, as he had always, for him to either leave the animal to die in the cold, whimpering in agony and misery, or to go out and kill the loyal pet and enjoy the look of betrayal on its faces. As a rule, these days, Gaara tried to do the opposite of what his sand demon told him to do, so he cut a compromise of going out there to check it was alright and not killing it.

Still, no matter the benevolent reasons, Gaara was angry that he was still going to have to trek out into the ice and snow and then endure whatever torturous 'play' Fluffy wished to put him through before he could schlep back to the castle to warm up. If he went all the way out there to find that the dog had died anyway, he would have been very upset. Wasting his time and warmth...

As the clothing-cocoon, once known as Sabaku no Gaara, sat eating a warm bowl of full-fat milk porridge, he watched Draco talking animatedly with his other new friends after Gaara had refused any interaction whilst he was still this cold. Desert dwellers had no place living in sub-zero conditions, no matter how much they tried to warm up the castle. And established irritable desert-dwellers in foul moods due to adverse weather conditions were not the greatest conversationalists and the dirty look Gaara shot Draco when he had tried to talk to him earlier had persuaded the blond to leave his roommate alone for the day and continue his bridge building among his fellow bottom-rung peers. Although, the other elites/blood-purists in his year were not entirely opposed to letting him associate with them from time to time, that was only when they weren't too exposed to the other year-groups that might see them with a suspected blood traitor.

Draco, whilst technically now a blood traitor at heart, would have to find some way of discreetly squashing that suspicion. It was insulting to be in the same league as that moron Weasley and the half-blood, blood traitor Potter. At least Gaara was no longer believed to be some sort of plebeian since he had fought both Potter, which earned him points on so many levels, and Snape which was more cool than respectable. Snape was still their Head of House and on Slytherin's side, but Gaara had fought toe to toe with him so the Slytherin loyalists at least respected that he hadn't stood for being insulted.

With his number-one crony in better standing, as long as no one questioned his beliefs on the true station of mud-bloods, Draco was almost one of the guys again, in his old circle, but the tension was still there with the underlying understanding that he didn't believe exclusively in blood purity anymore. It was a simple case of don't ask, don't tell, and everybody's relatively happy.

During the day, the teachers avoided calling on Gaara more than they usually would, which was rare enough with his muteness and acerbic nature. If there had been any doubt that Gaara had started a fight with a teacher before that morning, there certainly wasn't by the time he had made his rounds in the castle for his lessons.

Apparently, or so Draco told his friends the next day, Gaara had decided to take his chances with punishment and had retreated to his bed sometime during his free period when everybody else was suffering in the dungeons doing Potions, after having gone outside for some reason. Professor Snape didn't even seem to notice the terrifying number of sharp icicles above their heads on the ceiling.

The next day, Draco and Lupin were taught a clothes warming charm to bribe Gaara back into regular attendance. Lupin had been concerned when Gaara hadn't shown up to his lesson that evening, but had instead had Draco go in his place with a note apologizing for falling ill suddenly and being unable to attend.

For someone who had never gone to any sort of formal schooling before, and who had solved most of his problems over the years through violence and murder, Gaara had adapted to school remarkably quickly, having just skived off of his first day of school and his first detention.

The note wasn't very convincing and Draco outright told him that Gaara wasn't ill at all and was in fact just sat reading, but it was such normal behaviour that Remus laughed and awarded Draco a few points for doing the good deed. He probably should take some from Gaara, but... well... maybe he would if he remembered to do it in the morning...

OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next evening, after the lessons of the day had been braved in spite of the continuing and evidently worsening cold front, Gaara sat next to Draco and listened to him complain about some Quidditch news that he had apparently taken personal offence to.

Gaara had to actively hold back a little smile that was trying to stretch onto his lips when he glanced out of the corner of his eye that Ron Weasley, Draco's polar opposite (according to Draco), was similarly exasperated as he complained about something very much along the same lines as the Slytherin next to him, at east judging by the identical gestures and hand movements.

Quidditch was the great unifier, it seemed. Not, Gaara was sure, that either of the enthusiasts would admit such a shared interest. Gaara was certain that, just to spite each other, they would probably swear that they hated the beloved sport.

In the middle of his increasingly energetic rant about a questionable call during a match (Gaara couldn't give more details about his friend's impassioned but ultimately boring speech than that), Draco glanced back over his shoulder to see if he was rudely bothering any of the others around him and while his head was turned he didn't catch the lightning fast action of Gaara pouring a small vial of an unspecified liquid onto his dinner.

Not knowing that a mysterious substance had been poured onto his dinner, Draco didn't think twice about tucking into the meal in between angry complaints to his disinterested friend.

It wasn't much longer until Draco slowed in his speech and switched his grouching to being unusually tired and wanting to go to bed early. Being the considerate roommate that he was, Gaara went with the drowsy blond to the dormitory, mindful of the now setting sun casting an orange glow across the roof of the Great Hall.

By the time they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Draco was nodding off whilst standing, and was slurring his speech. As luck would have it, he collapsed before they entered the boy's dormitory and Gaara had to carry the slightly larger teen to the room, that is until the sun set somewhere above and out of sight. Gaara only knew the sun had set because like a month ago, that same sensation of change began to set about him and he was forced to set Draco back onto the ground and call his sand back into its gourd. The last thing Gaara needed was for the rest of Slytherin to return from dinner to find Draco sleeping, drugged, in a pile of Gaara sand and him nowhere to be found.

It was strange that now he was transforming awake into the tiny demon-tanuki form, it didn't hurt at all like it had when he had experienced transforming back into a human. He _hoped_ it was just that his body was accustomed to the change; he _expected_ that it would probably still hurt when he went back to normal.

First he began to shrink, so he stumbled down the hallway and into his room to shift in privacy. Better that Draco and his own gourd be found on the floor of the hallway than him in the middle of transforming. By the time he'd slammed the door shut, he was already half his original size and his ass was beginning to tingle, which he interpreted to mean that he would soon be sporting a long bushy tail from it. Meanwhile, as the tail grew out of his spine, a warmth spread across his skin and his fur sprouted.

As the tail crept out of his spine, Gaara marvelled at the indescribable sensation, and he wondered how another Jinchūriki would handle this part, seeing as the one he knew would have had to endure nine long tails growing from his backside. Then again, knowing that nine-tailed-idiot, he probably would have laughed and celebrated the extra extremities. Gaara would not be celebrating, especially not when his feet began to lengthen in spite of his wishes to the contrary and he began to totter as his least favourite change took place. It was a bit of a tossup, but while he detested his shorter stature, the depths of his hatred for these backwards animal legs was unending.

The entire change, including fur, tail and beastly physique, took only twenty minutes so Gaara promptly shuffled out of his clothes, bundled them up in his arms and dumped them on his bed before creeping back to the door and laying his big sensitive ear on it to hear if anyone had stumbled across Draco yet. Hearing not a peep, only his roommate's soft, uninterrupted breathing, Gaara reached up and tried to turn to the door knob. He growled when the soft paw couldn't get a proper grip on it and he had to reach up with both hand-paws, on the tips of his toes, to grab at the slippery knob.

The amount of effort it took to perform the simplest tasks was infuriating. Usually Gaara's menacing temper was displayed only through his glaring eyes, but in this form it seemed he unconsciously added a soft growl and his top lip drew back a little show off his pointy canines. He suspected his... hackles... he suspected the hair on the back of his neck was also on end, but he didn't have time to check himself in a mirror, dinner in the Great Hall wouldn't last for much longer and he had work to do.

He slipped out of the room and darted his eyes back and forth, imagining himself to be very much inside enemy territory where discovery would equate to a fate worse than death. So, usually, in his missions that meant torture, but his pride was important to him. One of those pesky Slytherin traits that made Gaara ponder whether that poor talking hat at the beginning of term had actually glimpsed inside his cluttered head.

Gaara didn't doubt that Shukaku, and most demons in fact, would be Slytherins, but he himself? He very much doubted the Sorting Hat would be willing to try a second time, not to mention Gaara was about as happy in this house as he was likely to be in any.

That being said, the number of missing students that would have amounted from him being sorted into Gryffindor would have likely given cause for the collected governors to review the age-old system of sorting in Hogwarts. Ravenclaw might have worked...

Gaara stepped up to one of the better reasons he'd rather stay in Slytherin, and marvelled (begrudgingly) how much taller Draco was now, even slumped against the wall. It wasn't fair that everyone was _always_ taller than him. It had always been a miracle that he didn't kill that many children when he was still mad, but now he considered whether he'd spared them simply to remain taller than somebody.

Gaara's mind kept wandering in a similar fashion as he struggled to take a firm hold of Draco so he could drag the blond into the seclusion of their room. 'This job would have been so much easier ten minutes ago.' Gaara kept repeating in his mind.

Eventually he pulled Draco's torso up against his own tiny back and slowly dragged his roommate along. A particularly troublesome part was that he then had to keep pulling the larger boy even after they had reached safety, away from prying eyes, all so that Gaara could dump Draco on his bed.

Gaara _was_ inconsiderate.

Gaara was inconsiderate – but even Draco might have questioned Gaara's willingness to let Draco not only collapse from a suspicious and sudden drowsiness but to then let Draco spend the night on the carpeted floor only feet away from their beds.

From now on, no one could possibly call Gaara selfish, as he lifted Draco's limp body, which weighed probably at least twice his own, over his head and rolled him onto the mattress. Gaara slumped down to sit against Draco's bed, with his giant fluffy tail nestled between his legs like a bean-bag and panted his exertion away. He'd retained thumbs (arguably) and yet he'd not retained his sweat glands. What cruel fate indeed.

Crueller still since he had to then drag his gourd into the room, which was _so_ much heavier! It took him a lot longer to do, but once he worked out that, like most things in this body, it was easier done on all four of his legs, it became possible to accomplish.

He lost his sweat glands, but his teeth were stronger than ever, and had no trouble pulling the sash attached to the considerable weight of tiny ground-up rocks he never had any trouble carrying before. Once the gourd was just inside the door frame, Gaara dropped it and shut the door, only padding over to his bed before collapsing onto it, which was tougher when he had to climb onto the bed using his well-protected tail as a footstool of sorts.

It was a tail of a thousand and one uses, it seemed, as Gaara sat back on his pillows and curled it around him to prop up the now comically-sized spell book he was attempting to read. It wasn't the most exciting thing to do whilst transformed into an entirely different species, but Gaara wasn't much of an adrenaline junkie, not like he used to be when he'd get his fix of adrenaline and other fear-induced hormones right out of his victims' blood. His forehead protector hadn't always been black but some stains just didn't wash out, no matter how hard Temari scrubbed.

Temari didn't clean up after her brothers because she was a girl, it was because Gaara was oblivious in some areas and Kankuro was a slob who pretended to be as unaware as Gaara. If she didn't do it, who would?

But back to Gaara and his current pastime: he was really killing time as the students of Slytherin began to return to the dungeons to continue their nefarious plotting of evil schemes and discussing politics over tea, or at least that was what the other houses seemed to believe. Gaara would have loved to be able to hear an evil scheme; he'd been so disappointed to find that Slytherins, like most Houses, sat around chatting and doing homework most nights. There was the occasional muttering about cursing some sorry student or a parent's evil deeds, but so far nothing worth staying to listen to. It wasn't as if he wanted to take part, he just couldn't understand why the house reputed to be so vile and subversive had to be so passive and quiet.

People passed by the door but not a single one stopped outside his. Most dorms in Hogwarts were host to social gatherings in the rooms of the students, no matter how many students were supposed to be staying in that room, even in Slytherin's exclusive shared rooms. All except Gaara and Draco's, a rooming situation that caused many of Draco's new and old friends to scratch their heads at the feasibility of such an allocation and to politely but firmly refuse offer to join Draco in his room.

Speaking of Draco, who was still sleeping away in the same uncomfortable heap Gaara had left him in on his own bed. Gaara had resorted to drugging Draco because he realised he had to do something to avoid suspicion for never being around during the night of the full moon. So he had come to the obvious conclusion considering his brother's profession, and had snuck in a certain Potions master's private store cupboard and stole a finished brew. It hadn't even crossed the inept potioneer's mind to steal the less traceable ingredients and make it himself. If it had, Draco might never have woken up.

People outside the door settled down to their evening activities and increasingly Gaara's mind wandered to anything but what he was reading. Eventually he closed the big hardback book, which took both hands, and jumped down from his bed.

He walked over to the full-length mirror that Gaara suspected Draco had brought to the room himself but couldn't prove because he hadn't been in any of his school mates' rooms. It came as a crushing relief to see that, as he had suspected and hoped for the past month, nothing was different or _worse_ than it had been. He made the best of a bad situation and looked on the bright side. As long as he still transformed back at the end of the night, he would consider this lunar-cycle transformation nothing more than an embarrassing inconvenience.

It was all the same, the pointed fluffy ears, the long fat fluffy tail, the fluffy digitigrade-jointed legs. Everything fluffy and oh so adorable, as he was sure the female population of Hogwarts would agree, not that they would _**ever**_ be given the chance.

Gaara was practically pulling out his own fur by the time the slow rhythm of drowsy adolescent footfalls marched outside his door signalling bedtime for all non-insomniacs in Slytherin. Gaara's ears perked up as he waited for the stragglers, having some meaningless conversation, to walk to their own bedrooms. To be safe, Gaara waited a few minutes more, to be sure, but in the end his impatience won out and he carefully opened the door and snuck out with all of the stealth he could muster in this cumbersome form.

It was troubling yet exhilarating to be tiptoeing around in the areas that were normally so busy, when he was so vulnerable to others. The cool night draft that was certainly spelled into the subterranean common room was pleasant, as being cooped up in that stuffy bedroom all evening was almost unbearable.

Gaara, as he began to run around on twice as many limbs as he would have liked, came to the conclusion that this form must have introduced some kind of animalistic mentality into his normally stoic and balanced mind. It wasn't as worrying as it should have been, all things considered, but then that was probably also because it was hard to concern himself over possible influences on his mind when he was just so glad to be out of that room and able to run around.

Maybe this was how some people felt all the time, bursting with energy and inexplicable impulses. If Gaara felt this way as a human, he might find himself in an orange jumpsuit one of these days, drooling over some pink-haired gorilla. Sakura was nice and all, and Gaara had nothing against her, but recently her punches had started to leave dents in his sand shield when he misspoke to her. Like a shorter, more effeminate Temari. Shudders all around.

Gaara didn't wait too long in the common room; just because he was revelling in the wild side of daring-do didn't mean that he wasn't cautious enough to wish to avoid an area so prone to students sneaking around. Often the upper years would sneak out of bed and hold private parties in the common room, safe in the knowledge that the younger years were afraid of them and that Snape wouldn't care nearly enough about his own snakes misbehaving to get out of bed past midnight.

Gaara thanked his lucky stars that unlike the Gryffindor common room that he'd heard about, Slytherin didn't have a living portrait guarding the entrance. No one would be able to report that such a 'strange little creature' had emerged from Slytherin and had returned there before dawn. There also wouldn't be anyone to remedy his leaving the door ajar so that he could return. He couldn't talk as it was, which had made gaining access difficult but not impossible at most times; if he had been locked out in this form, he would have been forced to wait until sunrise, whereupon he would be totally naked, in order for one of his housemates to open up and let him in.

Now that he was free to roam the castle, Gaara let the last of his misgivings slip and gave into the enjoyment of running unrestrained through the empty stone corridors of Hogwarts at top speed, not paying attention to any direction, simply moving with the demand 'forward.'

Gaara ascended stairs when he came to them, and ignored the questioning shouts of the portraits he'd woken up and who could only see a peculiarly long blur in the darkness that was moving far too quickly to be Mrs Norris. Absent minded as fuzzy-Gaara was, he didn't realise he'd run past a person who had been minding their own business in the hallway.

Luna Lovegood, one time acquaintance of Gaara and all-time biggest nut job in Ravenclaw, had been retrieving her 'lost' school things earlier that evening and had come across her favourite ghost in the castle, the Grey Lady, whom she'd talked to for a few hours. And then she'd discovered that a few of the portraits on the sixth floor had been fighting and had taken it upon herself to mediate the dispute and then to move the problem painting to another area of the floor. All in a night's work, and all that.

Luna had been on her way to returning to her tower, not quite sure which direction her home of two years was in, when her stride had been interrupted by a small sand coloured thing that had run past her, through the moonlit hall and out of sight.

"How strange." She muttered softly, gazing after the curiosity for a few moments.

Her interest, inevitable that it was, compelled her to run after it. It wasn't a ghost or a cat, but other than that she couldn't say what it was. It didn't look like any of the other things no one else saw but her, but she couldn't see anything more specific in that one brief glance.

Luna geared up to a sprint as the creature, oblivious of her pursuit, ran much faster than she could, and she struggled to keep it in sight. As she ran, she saw that it had a great big tail, as long as she was tall, and it bobbed about in the wind as it darted about on its spring loaded little legs. It had some black stripes all over its body, or perhaps they were blue. The lighting wasn't good and it seemed intent on running away from her, even if it gave no other outward sign that it was aware of her presence.

Her attempts to follow the fascinating little animal came to a full stop when the staircase it had just fled up changed and any chance of her catching up became nil. It was disappointing, but Luna decided she definitely wanted to discover what it was, so she'd have to drop her other side project of proving that there was an underclass of House Elves within institutions like Hogwarts depending on the droopiness of their ears.

Gaara honestly hadn't been aware of any of this, but had Luna gotten a little closer perhaps his overly sensitized ears might have picked up his pursuer. Nonetheless, Gaara was content to continue to exercise flat out until he couldn't take anymore. He hadn't had a good workout in weeks and tonight that urge seemed paramount, superseded only by Gaara's remaining conscious pride.

During his continued roaming that took him to all corners of the castle, barring the sealed off dorms, Gaara went to every floor of the school and to some areas he hadn't known existed, like the laundry room and the locked door that led to the house elf room. It was a surprisingly ornate door for such humble beings.

On his lightning fast travels, he stopped every now and then to inspect something a little closer from his new perspective, and at one of these breathers he was tackled from the side by an even smaller fluffy lump. Throwing it off, Gaara saw the hissing, spitting form of Filch's cat, Mrs Norris.

The disagreeable feline had never quite warmed up to him like all the other animals in this world seemed inclined to, but Gaara hadn't expected such a reaction as this. The cat seemed hell-bent on causing him harm, as she stalked around him, trying to get at his back so that she could claw him to death. He was tempted to return the favour, since his claws were longer and even sharper. In the end, the pragmatist and tactician in him struggled to the surface and he allowed Mrs Norris to circle around to his back, and looked over his shoulder in order to time it perfectly.

She pounced and his tail sailed through the air to club her in the squashed face. The cat was sent flying into the wall and didn't move more than a twitch after that.

He was twice her size and his tail was a formidable weapon, but nonetheless his ego was stroked just a bit by overcoming a foe in this debilitating form.

She'd wake up in a few hours with a headache and a newfound vendetta against the red-haired student who she was convinced had somehow transformed into this identically smelling but otherwise totally dissimilar being. Filch also earned himself an enemy that night, in the form of Madam Pomfrey, whom he had woken up in a frenzy, screaming about his dying precious Mrs Norris. "Perfectly fine, just knocked out and I am not a veterinary-witch, Argus!" Was the irate diagnosis. The next morning, a rumour circulated that there had been a torrid affair between the two staff members that had ended unfavourably leading to the dirty looks she kept sending him over her breakfast.

Still being very early in the morning, Gaara left the defeated body of Mrs Norris to continue his run anywhere and everywhere. It was a night of many adventures for Gaara, coming across Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington somewhere on the top floor of the main school building. The supernatural encounter was short but sweet; Jinchūriki, as a rule, don't like ghosts at the best of times, much less when they can be as chatty as Nearly Headless Nick. The genteel spirit seemed as puzzled as everybody else in this world that met him in a form they couldn't identify, but Sir Nicholas seemed to be spurred only into recounting one of his many adventures during which he had discovered a new type of pixie but then lost it and forgot what it looked like.

Bewildered and off put, Gaara walked away from the rambling ghost and walked onwards, unheeded. The view out of the windows, the ones that were low enough for Gaara to see out of, was stunning. The night sky seemed surprisingly clear and the moon shine illuminated the entire forbidden forest into shades of black and grey. Gaara would definitely prefer to spend the full moon in the open air next month, instead of darting about, practically jumping off the walls inside and surrounded by disturbances and threats.

As the sand coloured boy-tanuki continued his more subdued walk on the top floor, he passed a door he'd been told about but had never actually seen. If Draco was right, which Gaara calculated to be about an even chance, this was the door to the infamous Abandoned Tower of Hogwarts. So-called for plain reasons, the tower had not been set foot in for almost a century by any witch or wizard.

The story told of a pair of seventh-year students at the end of the nineteenth-century who had been practicing some experimental rune configurations in the tower one night, in an attempt to tap into the magic in the castle. Messing with the magic had caused an instability and the tower had to be condemned since no one at the time had the expertise or power to correct the problem. The students were never publically named, but several theories had surfaced over the years, because of the power and skill that would have been required to mess up so spectacularly.

It was said that after the initial evacuation by the precocious pair of students, any attempts to step into the tower's entranceway caused the stones to rattle and shake. The hazardous area of the children's learning institution would have been taken down decades ago were it not for the gaping hole that would have been left in the side of Hogwarts. Repairs could be made to Hogwarts these days, through the Department of Mysteries, but a mix of budget constraints and forgetting about the unusable tower among other reasons had led to it being left as it was by the school's administration. Headmaster Dumbledore had always seemed oddly evasive about the matter, the few times the governors had broached the subject.

Gaara opened the door, wondering why in the world such a dangerous area of the school wasn't locked and/or sealed with heavy magic wards, and poked his head beyond. The darkened staircase was filthy and looked so far aged compared to the rather pristine looking castle. Still buzzing from his adrenaline rush, Gaara didn't think twice about setting foot inside of the unstable entrance. He figured that humans were too heavy, whereas he was not. Gaara: 1, full-sized people: 0.

Later Gaara, when he was back to skin and properly shaped legs, would begin to worry just how present the animal instinct was in his mind, that he would be so reckless and careless. Next month, he decided, in the morning, he would most certainly go into the Dark Forest, filled with all kinds of deadly and evil monsters, where it was safe for a small defenceless tanuki-thing like him.

Now, however, Gaara wasn't thinking as straight as his mind might have led him to believe, so he didn't see a real problem with passing into the stairway and climbing it slowly and somewhat cautiously. To tanuki-Gaara's credit he didn't disturb any of the stones of the castle, even if he could tell that they only just allowed his weight upon them.

At the top of the stairs was a single chamber, but a surprisingly roomy one, almost the size of the Divinations space. It was sparse and featured a number of what Gaara understood to be antique furniture, in varying states of decay. There was a hole in the roof and a few bats were hanging from the ceiling, looking well fed.

The stone tower was nothing more than a condemned stone wreck that was still standing by the grace of God alone, and as he shuffled around some of the more perilous looking areas of the flooring, Gaara believed the only use for such a tower would be to grind it up as sand for one of his techniques. As slack as the security in Hogwarts seemed most of the time, the sand user couldn't imagine that they wouldn't miss an entire tower disappearing.

Through the hole in the ceiling, Gaara saw the most minor change in the colour of the night sky and turned around to go back to the dorms ready for the dawn reversion. He didn't dilly-dally on the return journey, since dawn in the autumn came so much later and he didn't want the early risers, up before the sun, to see him.

He got back to safety as he heard the students in the other rooms begin to wake, and climbed back into his own bed, after he'd thrown some pyjamas under the sheets. Even underground he could sense the ongoing setting of the moon, so Gaara cocooned himself in his bed sheets and waited, hoping the sleeping potion he had dosed Draco with would hold out a few minutes more. Wrapping himself up served to hide him if Draco did wake up early, and it would also protect the delicate boy from the dastardly cold that was soon to come. Fur kept him warm, skin did not.

If he was to survive the winter in this country, Gaara was going to have to find a way to insulate his sand armour technique, or else make himself a fur coat out of something in the Forbidden Forrest.

It was just as people began to exit their rooms and walk to the Great Hall that Gaara felt the beginnings of the shift, and it was just as painful as the last time he'd changed back. It appeared that morphing into his inconvenient monthly form was painless but turning back to normal was anything but.

Gaara stifled his growls that turned into throaty groans that then became muted. He gripped the sheets around him as the hairs crawled back under his skin and his tail forced its way into his back once more. His legs snapped and stretched and within ten minutes, Gaara was human once more, and he was glad of it, even if he was left shivering from the pain more than the chill that assaulted his senses directly after.

It was as he pulled on his bed clothes that he began to reflect on his flippant decision making the night before and questioned his working logic behind the bizarre flippancy.

By some uncommon stroke of luck, it was soon after this that Draco began to stir, adding his own share of groans to the morning as his neck cricking woke him up with a wince. As drowsy and pained as Draco was, he didn't argue when Gaara told him that he'd looked very tired the night before and had crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow without even changing. Draco didn't argue because he was tired and because he was struggling enough with reading the sand before his eyes, much less finding holes in the blurry story.

Draco did however notice that Gaara coughed more than once and seemed to be holding his throat like it was paining him. Draco asked, "Are you okay Gaara? You aren't sick are you? Because Madam Pomfrey would probably give you something for your throat, if you asked. Or is it your, you know, scar...?"

The reverence or caution with which Draco spoke of Gaara's destroyed voice box and slashed throat would have put many in mind of the manner in which people referred to Harry Potter's famous scar, but since the one who spoke had never given any kind of respect to Potter and his scar and Gaara had not been there to hear the initial interest in the Boy-Who-Lived in the first year, the resemblance was missed entirely.

Gaara did seem to have a frog in his throat, but it wasn't anything worth seeing the overbearing matron about. Her spells couldn't heal him anyway and his throat wasn't that much worse than last month, so he didn't give Draco an answer and simply stepped of the bed and went to change for the day.

When he returned, Draco was still stretching and trying to undo the night's sleeping badly and Gaara felt a little guilty about the whole thing so he tapped Draco on the shoulder before he could go to change as well and pointed at his floating sand.

'You're tired. You can rest this Saturday instead of training.' Instead of relieved, Draco was terrified. He hadn't considered that now that they were friends again he would be expected to join Gaara in exercising outside like a _muggle_ again. He'd hoped that was forgotten, or at least that Gaara would have been put off by the frigid weather at the moment that was only set to worsen in the Scottish highland.

Draco's terror at being forced to exhaust himself for no reason subsided because he remembered it was the first Hogsmeade trip this weekend for his year group and he'd be able to go and treat himself to a nice butterbeer and all kinds of confections.

As Draco chatted (to himself, mostly) about the trip, Gaara didn't get as excited as Draco had anticipated. Gaara never reacted that much anyway, but the Hogsmeade trip was an outing, a special day and yet Gaara simply looked bored as he covertly swept up the few stray strands of fur that had been left last night. Anywhere else such evidence was negligible, but there had been no animals in their room to blame the sand coloured hairs on and could have led to some inconvenient questions.

Over breakfast, they talked quietly, or in Gaara's case his sand writing was brought down so that it was not so visible to others; they each recounted some of what had happened to them when they'd been fighting. They talked of Quidditch practices that had gone awry, of the progress of 'secret' supplementary lessons, and the day the weird guy from the Ministry came looking for Gaara. Draco even mentioned, briefly as he could manage, his correspondence with his parents, leaving out the offer of Christmas at the Malfoy home until another day. In turn, Gaara talked about the 'fight' he'd had with Potter and how it had all been a misunderstanding, which was doubly so for Gaara since he didn't understand how such a whimsical match could be called a fight.

Reformed or not, Draco was a little tickled by the prospect of Harry being beaten up. He'd been there, but reliving it was just so much fun. He might fundamentally agree with Potter and his back-up dancers on a few issues now, and most of his antagonism stemmed from where they used to differ in those areas, but enough had happened between them now that Draco honestly didn't care about the ideals or politics, he just didn't like Harry Potter. In many ways it was actually nicer to hate someone because of petulance and grudges instead of political agendas that were never his to begin with. A nice simple feud.

Draco watched Gaara eat his meagre portion and piped up, "You didn't sleep last night."

A statement, unknowably true; Gaara turned to Draco and waited for him to elaborate. The platinum blond obviously hadn't been awake to see Gaara not sleep, otherwise he certainly wouldn't have begun by mentioning Gaara's casual approach to sleep schedules and instead would definitely have whispered in panicked tones about transformations and the like.

Draco did eventually continue unprompted to explain his insight about the guarded shinobi, "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this before, but when you don't sleep your eyes are really wide all day long."

Indeed, no one had told him that before. Although sleep was a relatively new concept for him, he hadn't ever been in the habit of spending enormous amounts of time preening in front of the mirror, unlike some people he knew (Kankuro didn't like it being advertised that he drew on his makeup fresh every morning), so Gaara had never noticed how his eyes had relaxed ever since his mastery of Shukaku reached safe levels and how they would revert to his 'crazy look' when he reverted to his insomniac ways.

It just went to show that Draco's immaculate visage was the profit of hard work and not as God-given as he might have liked others to believe. Only someone obsessed with image would have noticed such a variation even in someone they lived in such close quarters to.

Gaara just couldn't understand that someone could take such a humanitarian interest in his welfare outside of his own oblivious family. He allowed his eyes to drift up to the staff table, seeking out Lupin but failed to find the sickly man. It was no surprise that Remus, as ill as he had been the past few days, had taken the morning off.

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It came time for the third years and above to make their first trip of the year to the nearby village of Hogsmeade and Draco couldn't be more excited. He thought Gaara _could_ be more excited, but he settled on the masked bandit just going. He even charmed Gaara's cloak(s) to stay nice and toasty all day long so that he wouldn't have a good reason to complain. As it happened, Gaara was willing to go anyway, not being concerned about going since he had no money and no need to get anything in Hogsmeade, but since it was too cold to train anywhere or to relax in any way he figured if he kept moving he might stave off frostbite. The heated cloak, God's gift to wizardry, sweetened the deal considerably.

As Draco and Gaara stepped out of the massive back doors into the snow covered courtyard, Gaara thought that it was times like these and only times like these that he wished that he was a Gryffindor. He heard they had a really warm common room. It was inconceivable that there were so many eager lions raring to go hike through the snow to the ice covered village that he'd been found in by Snape a couple of months ago.

Gaara spotted that those closest to the bridge were setting off and began onwards as well, heedless of whatever Gaara was telling him, only for Professor McGonagall to step into his path.

"Mr Gaara, I'm afraid students aren't allowed to visit Hogsmeade without a signed permission form."

Gaara paused for a moment, wondering what the problem was, and his sand popped out and asked what she was talking about for him.

Minerva wasn't used to questions like this, and was unsure whether Gaara was being rude or whether he had genuinely never encountered a permission slip before, wherever he came from.

"The school needs the signature and thus permission of a responsible adult or guardian before it can release a student on a trip like this. Without a signed form, I'm afraid you'll have to stay behind, Gaara."

Gaara eyes widened and he relaxed as he thought he understood the strange concept. 'If you give me a form, I will sign it now.' He felt pretty satisfied that his assurance had solved whatever problem the teacher had. It was just a liability form like the one he'd signed for the Chunin exam. Though, remembering back to it, it would probably not be as dangerous as the Chunin exam was (for other people), but then the last time he'd been in Hogsmeade he'd been surrounded by dozens of dementors, so who knew?

"Mr Gaara, I don't care for your sense of humour. Now, please step back inside." McGonagall was in no mood for jokes as it seemed desert-dwellers and the elderly had in common a susceptibility to the cold despite any number of warming charms they utilised.

'I don't understand. I am an adult, why can I not sign the form?' Gaara didn't really care about the trip; this, like most of his problems in this age-obsessed world, was about his pride.

"Whilst this is hardly the time or the place to be arguing about the age of maturity, you are only thirteen years old and hardly in a place to take responsibility for your own safety." Minerva slumped down a little, not wanting to patronise the short boy any further but wanting to look him in the eyes, "I am sorry Gaara. I understand that you have a unique family situation and no one is claiming that you are immature, but you are not an adult and cannot be given special treatment. Mr Potter over there also is unable to attend, you aren't being singled out." She looked around to where she had just seen Harry but he'd long gone off to brood somewhere.

Gaara was still confused, but figured that this was just one of those many many things that he didn't understand about this world's culture. He'd been an adult since he became a shinobi in his world, and he hadn't been a child since he got his tattoo years ago (or when he'd lost his teddy some time after). Nonetheless, it really wasn't the time to be arguing with teachers in such a slow manner as his, not in this weather, so he let the issue go and tried to figure out what to do with his day when all he wanted to do was find a spell that allowed humans to hibernate. Or perhaps find a school that was closer to the equator.

Draco was sad that Gaara had been barred from going on, but he decided to go on without him as going to Hogsmeade for the first time was a rite of passage for Hogwarts students, and he wanted his sweets. He'd make it up to Gaara by buying him plenty of candy as well. That'd cheer him up.

Draco spent the day splitting his time between the moderates, who acted like normal teenagers on a field trip, and the elitist blood purists (his old friends), who were willing to travel with him because of his continuing dubious status and undeniable wealth. His father had been pleased with his actions lately, minus the communications blackout, so his allowance had gotten a healthy bonus as a reward and he thought it was only fair that Gaara share in this windfall. He had planned to take Gaara around the shops to see if he wanted anything, but now he'd just go with something sweet. Who didn't like sweets?

During the day while Harry was seeking out Professor Lupin to find out about his parents who the sickly DADA teacher apparently knew, Gaara found the perfect way to spend his Saturday: he snuck into the Gryffindor common room. He had planned to threaten the portrait of the Fat Lady to let him in when he found the painting ajar and unguarded after Neville had forgotten to close it properly on his way to the library just a few moments before.

Gaara sat himself down in front of the fire, wrapped up fully in a thick red blanket he'd found on the plush arm chair, and started on a new book. The few Gryffindors in the tower that had not gone on the trip, mostly first and second years, saw the blankets and book and assumed he was one of them, trying to stay warm.

During the day, Gaara was feeling very peaceful and cosy and when it quietened down in the dorm, he got up and had a proper look around. If someone found him in there he'd tell them he got lost, and then he'd sit back down and dare them to try and make him leave.

When the stairs refused to let him up, he decided that either the tower itself didn't like him (a distinct possibility) or it was the girls' dormitory he was trying to enter and the Gryffindors were so uncivilised that measures had had to be taken to stop the boys from doing something reprehensible in the night.

Up the other set of stairs, Gaara found the coops that housed so many boys in one room, on bunk beds of all things. Not everyone was as antisocial as his House, or indeed him, but it was still bizarre to think that the House of red and gold had to live in such close quarters. It couldn't be to do with funds so it must have been to do with the ideals of the house. Gaara shuddered to think after the sleeping arrangements of Hufflepuff, the friendship house. He soon saw everything he needed to see to satisfy his curiosity and settled back down in front of the fire.

All in all, it was a nice day for Gaara, if perhaps a trifle boring, but one can't have everything. Reluctantly in the evening he stood again to go to dinner and listen to whatever story Draco wanted to regale him with about the assuredly _fascinating_ trip to the shops. As he neared the entrance of the tower, the red head heard shouting and then a sound like a lullaby to his accustomed ears: a blood curdling scream, which was then followed by some kind of ripping-fabric sound.

Gaara proceeded regardless and opened the portrait in time to see a strangely familiar dog run away down the stairs. At the sound of the portrait opening, above the sounds of shouting and roaring from the countless portraits that coated the stairwell, the dog turned back to look at who had emerged and appeared, if Gaara's judgement of dog emotions was any kind of reliable source, surprised. He'd seen the same look once or twice when he'd used _shunshin_ to go and visit Fluffy.

Gaara wasn't sure what was happening or why a dog wanted to get into Gryffindor (either that or the Fat Lady's singing had done number on the poor creature's ears) but the familiarity of the dog persuaded Gaara to chase after it to see if he could find some answers.

As he ran after it, Gaara considered where he could have seen it before. He'd only spent time with one dog that came to mind, and this one was quite a bit different. This big but nonetheless normal black dog with one head... hadn't he seen a dog before he got to Hogwarts, back in Hogsmeade village? Why was it here now?

He continued to chase after the beast as the students were beginning to converge on the empty portrait of the Fat Lady.

It was going to be another long night, this time not only for insomniacs and part-time wolves.

To be continued...

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, as always. I think I can safely say that anyone that has read this far (133,000 words in total now) are probably in it for the long haul. I have a dedicated readership. Yay, go me.

I'm afraid I skipped writing an omake this time, but I figure most of you are sick and tired of listening to my (narrative) voice by now. And I'm sure as hell sick of reading my own stuff.

In this chapter, as in prior ones, it may seem like I am Snape-bashing. I usually go to some lengths not to explain my work and not to give away anything about the future but I am aware of how similarities between my portrayal of Snape and of those of bashers and I don't want to repulse those who do not enjoy such one-sided portrayals. I will state here that I like Snape and I _am_ trying to keep him in some semblance of canonical character whilst adding in my divergence: Gaara. So, please, bear with me in that regard.

It was hilarious, when I went to see the final Harry Potter film in 2011, after I had long since written the plan for most of this chapter. I had planned to base my 'Henrick Morbidus' character on the Holby City (a British medical drama) character, Henrik Hanssen who I believe to be one of the greatest characters of any current television show. The funny part is that this character, Morbidus, that I have effectively cast as the actor Guy Henry (who plays Hanssen), also play Pius Thicknesse in the seventh and eighth Harry Potter films. It was just the coincidence of it that had me snickering inexplicably for five minutes in the cinema.

Oh and I plan to write shorter chapters from now on to hopefully increase the likelihood of updating more than once a year. Plus this behemoth of a chapter is more daunting than pleasant I think. I would have cut it up and updated twice in a row, but having completed it all, I couldn't bring myself to cut it down and diminish the gargantuan achievement of finishing a chapter exceeding forty thousand words!

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Following the last chapter's trend of asking my reader's for their services (shout out to Darkling221 for the amazing cover art, once again) and after continually spotting typos and little mistakes in my past posted chapters (which I am sure are also in abundance in this one), I am considering whether or not to take on a beta. If anyone is interested in the job I'd like to hear from you, though I would prefer them to have written something of their own so I could check their abilities. It wouldn't be often at all, even with my plans to shorten any future chapter lengths. I suppose I'm just looking for a glorified proof-reader, etcetera.

If you're interested then please drop me a PM and we can go from there.


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